Obsidian - Raise A Little Hell
by BruisedBloodyBroken
Summary: PROMPT-STORY. Dean's a demon, trying to find redemption. Sam's a hunter who's trying to rid the world from evil. Dean's kidnapping the hunter from his deathbed to heal & use him for a ritual that promises him paradise. READ WARNINGS INSIDE! ABOUT: UNRELATED!WINCEST, bottom!sam, top!dean, hunter!sam, demon!dean, hurt!sam, love!story, will be rated later
1. Let's Get Started

**MAKE THIS STORY YOURS**

Okay guys. I had this idea :) & I know it's crazy ... I never did this before ...

An idea of wich i don't know if it's cool or not ... I saw, that other authors are doing this too and I wanted to give it a try with an UNRELATED!WINCHEST-VERSION. :)

YOU, my friends, ARE GOING TO GIVE ME PROMPTS FOR THIS STORY.

YOU are telling me, what I am supposed to write.

YOU are the ones who tell me what you want to read & I'M going to do it.

Lets see how many are in for this kind of Idea.

I'm sorry if I'm not using all the prompts (if it even gets that far & if there are that many entries), depends on if they fit or if they don't ... after all it should be ... you know ... not bullshit. With a start, middle-part, and an ending.

Besides: there's going to pass more time in between the updates, since i have to go along the prompts, and it very much depends on my shift-plan too.

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**HERE'S HOW IT'S GOING TO WORK:**

1st: I GIVE YOU A HEADSTART with the first chapter.

2nd: YOU are going to review with your prompt (you can also review with prompts for this story in the later chapters of course, but for planning this story I need to work ahead a bit, so it wouldn't be bad if you'd give me something to work with at the beginning).

3rd: I'm going to work the plot out by the basis of your prompts.

4th: I'll post :)

THIS IS UNRELATED!WINCEST, NOT UNDERAGE (The characters have to be 20+), no age-reversal, Sam's the bottom (and will always be for me), Dean's the top (because there's no other way I want to write him), it's supposed to be a love!story and not just porn. Of course there will be porn too (if you prompt it) – also with kinks (if they fit into the storyline), but not in the first couple of chapters (probably), since the story should be (at least) a bit believable ... if you know what I mean?

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**ONTO THE STORY:**

**Obsidian – Raise A Little Hell**

_Chapter 1 ~ Let's Get Started_

Just a couple of miles and he'd be there ... he'd get help. Help he needed more than anything else right now. Hell, the blood was already seeping into the driver's seat in between his legs. The wound was too severe to take care of it in a motel-room all by himself. If he tried he'd bleed out before he even get his surgical kit out of the duffel. - Besides ... it wouldn't work anyway.

The damn bastard had got him good. A sucking chest wound, something that wouldn't be done with burning out the wound and three or four stitches. Besides ... the knife was still stuck in between his ribs, high likely puncturing his lung ...

No ... it was just a matter of minutes until he'd be there. Surely, no hunter loved to go into a hospital. Neither did Sam. Actually he HATED hospitals worse than cholera or pestilence in person. He have had his fair share of injuries, but this one was by far the worst.

So yes. If he wanted to live, he had to hold onto consciousness as long as possible – until he would get the help he needed.

Sam could already see the red and white indexing that showed him the way to the hospital. He actually couldn't recall how he finally got to a hold at the front-entrance of the building.

A couple of inches further and he would have crashed straight into the glass-front of the closed doors with his pickup.

Though he got there. - Now it was about to get the people's attention. - Okay, he might had the attention of everyone inside and around the front-entrance. Nearly bumping into the doors had obviously risen enough.

A hand full of people were gathering around his car, there were flustered voices and nervous yells. Though he couldn't make out a single word of them anyway. The buzzing in his head was too loud.

Sam gripped the handle of the door and wrenched it open, nearly falling out in the process, though he caught himself on the wheel.

Suddenly someone was beside him, an angrily screwed up face of a man who was yelling something at him.

Sam could just grin at the guy. He didn't understand him anyway. Not in the condition he was in. Probably some broken bones, a concussion and the damn stab wound. - Nah ...

The very next moment the man went rigid and stared at him flabbergasted. Obviously the guy had finally managed to check that there was no reason to yell at him since he didn't even understand a word, leaving alone getting out a damn syllable.

The crowd around Sam's car erupted into a hype of activity the very next moment. He felt a hand on his chest, pressing something on the wound around the knife. The pressure stilled the searing pain for a couple of moments and he gasped at the sudden relief.

"Hey, boy!", the man yelled, his brown eyes narrowing. "Stay with me, kid." His voice trembled as he saw the wounded man's eyes flutter close. "HELP! Damn it! Get a damn doctor out here!" Crimson soaked through the shirt he had pulled off to press it onto the wound. His dark skin shining in the pale light of the lamps and the light of the full moon above their heads. The man's gaze followed the trail of scarlet in wich the young man's shirt and jeans were soaked.

He got shoved to the side by two men in blue gowns, white coats and stethoscopes dangled from their necks.

"What do we have?", one of them called out.

With every moment those damn fools wasted he was loosing blood. _Damn it, it's a sucking chest wound, folks_. Though Sam's words stayed in his mind instead of leaving his mouth as he had intended to let them.

"Stab wound!", the other one called back. "Bruises and lacerations on his face. Looks like he got pretty banged up!"

_Yatzeee!_

Sam heard the passenger's door open and the car shift. Someone was crawling inside beside him. Now there were more hands on him. One was checking his neck, another one was clipping something on his pointing-finger.

_What the hell is taking them so long?_

"BP ninety to fifty and falling. SATs are down to sixty-five – dropping. Pulse not measurable!"

"Get him on the stretcher. - Careful. We can't afford to dislocate the knife."

"Hey, boy! Can you hear me? What's your name?"

Sure he was hearing him ... but hell, the question got lost somewhere between his ears and brain in a foggy cloud of nothingness.

"Okay ... lets get him inside. - Get the OP ready. We've an emergency here. - And page Doctor Brennan. We're gonna need her!"

Then the voices started to grow silent and muffled. Something was covering his mouth and nose now. There was still the pressure on his chest and the feeling of water filling his lungs slowly. The voices and sounds disappeared after a couple of moments and he found himself flooding somewhere between here and there. He felt his body jolting up from where he was lying now and all he wanted to do was sleep.

* * *

The pretty blonde nurse blinked up through long dark lashes, her blue eyes glistening in the light. She smiled sweetly at the man who was leaning against the counter of the nurse's station on the ICU.

He didn't look as nervous as other relatives whose people were here. Maybe they hadn't been close or something. Maybe the handsome guy in his thirties with emerald-green eyes and pouty lips was just a step-brother and not a real one. Because – to be honest – there weren't a lot of similarities between him and the guy in room three.

Then again ... Katy didn't look a lot like her sister too ...

What counted was, that the man was right up her alley and that he sure as hell would need some comfort when his so-called brother would finally kick the bucket. Sure she knew that it wasn't very nice to think that way ... And somehow she cursed herself for it. But then again ... not a lot of people were making it out of the ICU alive and it was just her way to deal with it.

"Can I see my brother now?" The man started to grow impatient with every passing minute doctor Brennan didn't appear.

She had called her already three times and though ... the handsome guy was waiting now for thirty minutes streight.

"I'm sorry. The doctor's going to be here in no-time. I promise." She tried to not put too much sweetness into her voice, since the man was about to lose his sibling.

"Just tell me in which room he is in. - Or do I have to find him myself?" His look was more feral, even dangerous now. Kind of threatening.

"I'm sorry, sir. I can't let you to him before you haven't talked to the doctor and proved that you're his brother." Katy wasn't stupid. Of course she would've let the man to his brother. It wasn't like anyone had ever gotten killed on an ICU by some stranger ... though she had strict orders to not let anyone into that room. Leaving alone, leaving Samuel Hudson alone with someone else in the room on his own.

So nope. She wouldn't risk her job because of a handsome stranger with cute dimples and millions of freckles on his model-like face.

"He's my damn brother!", the man yelled now at her. "Either the doc's gettin' his ass over here, or I'm going to punch that idiot's face to mush!" Okay ... the last words were more of a growl than actually english language, but clear enough to be understood.

"No need to turn aggressive against the staff ... Mister Hudson?" A voice from behind him was heard and a tall woman in blue scrubs and white coat came towards him. "Hello. - I'm doctor Brennan."

"Dean Hudson." The green-eyed man gave her a short nod. "Can I see my brother now?"

Doctor Brennan eyed the man curiously. "First I need an ID or your driver's license, sir." She tried to stay firmly, despite the fact that she was late and the man had all rights to be pissed. Though she didn't want to get her face punched to mash ...

Dean rummaged around in his pockets like crazy. He knew he'd find nothing, though he tried to look miserable and beaten ... "I ... I think I must've left it in the hotel-room." He blinked up through long thick lashes, giving her his most pitiful look.

Doctor Brennan pinched the bridge of her nose and rubbed over her face. She was too tired, too frustrated. The man could give up his fight against death every minute now. - And his brother had forgotten his damn ID.

No wonder ... his brother was dying ... the last thing you'd think about is taking an ID with you to the hospital, would you?

"Okay ..." Doctor Brennan sighed deeply and looked back up at the man.

He still wore this miserable expression on his face – he seemed even a bit pleading too.

"Fine. - Room number three ...", She said and took a step forward, so that she stood directly in front of the man. ",, I'll bring you to him. But before I ... Look ... Your brother's in a bad shape." _Yeah, get it out. Tell him that he's gonna die, that he won't make it. Another one on your list tonight._ "He got stabbed. - His ... his lung got punctured and collapsed. We did all we could but ..." She sighed, trying to get the damn words over her lips. "He won't survive the night, Mister Hudson. - Your brother is going to die."

She could see the man's face fall, the color drain from his face. One hell of an act anyway. Dean hadn't known that he was capable of acting as good as right now. Okay, he have had his moments before ... but this? This was beyond awesome.

He even managed to let a tear roll down his left cheek and sniffed. "What?"

"I am sorry, Mister Hudson. - I suggest you take your time with Samuel.", She said quietly.

Dean gave her a nod. "Can I see him now?", his lips were quivering, his voice trembling.

The doctor led Dean to room number three and gave him another talk about Sam's condition and what he was going to see inside.

Dean couldn't care less.

Finally the doctor backed off and left him alone. He acted like he braced himself to grip the handle and push in down (Just in case he was watched). But in fact Dean couldn't wait to get inside and have some quality-time on his own with the hunter.

The room was dim and silent, except for the noises the machines were making. Ever so slowly, Dean narrowed and rounded the bed, so that he had a look at Sam and the door at once. It wouldn't last long until the others would be here.

The hunter had left a trail of burned out vessels and dead demons. There was no way they wouldn't find him here. - He was just glad he had found him before his own kind had.

"So ... that's Samuel Campbell ... Sam ... Sammy ...", he spoke silently, eying the beaten up face of the pale man on the bed, a tube sticking out of his mouth. "I'm Dean. Dean Winchester. - Nice to meet you, kiddo." He smiled, his lips curling up a bit more as his eyes flashed black for the matter of a second. "You created quite of a mess out there ... you know that?"

Dean sucked in his lower lip and bit down on it. This wouldn't be the first time he'd use his demonic powers for something good. But it was the first time he'd try to heal someone far enough to let him survive. He'd at least try.

After all they were fighting on the same side, weren't they? - At least somehow ...

Dean Winchester wasn't as bad as his obsidian eyes may let on. There was no doubt that he was a demon, that he had his way with humans in not a very gentle way. Those who were blessed to learn about the bad side of him had deserved it – _somehow_. Maybe not always. Maybe, sometimes he was just the mean bastard from hell he was supposed to be. But most of the time he tried to do the right thing.

He just wasn't quite sure if this was one of the good things he should even be thinking about doing. He could let the hunter die, let him rest in peace.

But he didn't _want_ to – and that may was a spark of his dark side coming out into daylight.

Yeah, sometimes he was doing selfish things like that.

Besides ... he WAS a demon – in his flesh and blood. No possessing-vessels-shit. He didn't need it. On the other hand ... it quite sucked at times. Walking around like that?! It was all kinds of not so amazingly awesome.

That was what his father had thought too when his eyes flashed black for the first time. The funny thing? No devil's trap, no binding-spell, none of that worked. Hell, not even an exorcism.

Dean didn't know what hell was like, because he had never been there. Or he was and couldn't remember. Hell, he didn't even know how to behave as a demon was supposed to. Okay, he knew the basic rules ... but none of them seemed to work for him.

Wouldn't it have been for YED, he wouldn't have even known what the basic rules for demons were ... A pity on both sides actually. Because YED was pissed that Dean wasn't as teachable as he had wanted to and Dean was utterly annoyed that the guy even had the patience to try.

None of the demon's works had made him better or worse. He was still the stubborn Winchester he used to be. Just with some extra juice.

He eyed the human being for quite a long time, before he laid his hand on the cool sweaty forehead and closed his eyes, just to welcome the darkness in them when he opened them again.

Dean started to mumble absently, barely hearable for anyone but Sam (if he'd be conscious).

Two more lines and he would've finished ... but no such luck.

The door to Sam Campbell's room burst open and there were four nurses – even the blonde, cute one he had thought he'd get laid with later – and Doc Brennan. All of them wearing obsidian eyes – reveiling who they really were.

"Winchester.", the not-doctor hissed.

With an annoyed sigh, Dean straightened up and glared at the five of them. "Little too late, ladies." His lips twitched.

That was going to be fun ...

_... to be continued_

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^^ I'M WAITING FOR YOUR **REVIEWS**, FOLKS ^^

let me know how I should continue, what you want to read, or/and how these characters are supposed to develop.

... and I'm nosy how many of you are in for this one ...


	2. Chapter 2 Captured By The Devil

Here we go with our lill' prompt story :) I got a couple of reviews & going to build the plot around it. Soooo … if you guys still have suggestions or something you wanna read, you can review with the prompt :)

**THANK YOU FOR YOUR REVIEWS & SUGGESTIONS SO FAR! **

Might as well give y'all an update, huh?

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_**Obsidian ~ Raise A Little Hell**_

**The Road So Far:**

_He eyed the human being for quite a long time, before he laid his hand on the cool sweaty forehead and closed his eyes, just to welcome the darkness in them when he opened them again._

_Dean started to mumble absently, barely hearable for anyone but Sam (if he'd be conscious)._

_Two more lines and he would've finished ... but no such luck._

_The door to Sam Campbell's room burst open and there were four nurses – even the blonde, cute one he had thought he'd get laid with later – and Doc Brennan. All of them wearing obsidian eyes – reveiling who they really were._

_"Winchester.", the not-doctor hissed._

_With an annoyed sigh, Dean straightened up and glared at the five of them. "Little too late, ladies." His lips twitched._

_That was going to be fun …_

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_**Chapter 2 ~ Captured By The Devil**_

NOW:

A pair of black eyes darted through the room. He was panting, sweating, exhausted and wounded. Sure he was a so-called knight of hell, but that didn't mean that he was invulnerable. Specially not _him_.

Dean Winchester was born into this. He was born with obsidian eyes and a soul as black as the darkest night. He was what people would've called the definite evil. Though … He wasn't all that evil as he probably should be. His soul wasn't as black as it was supposed to be and sometimes he felt more human than anything else.

Actually he wanted to be was a spark of humanity, that allowed him to doubt his own evil thoughts and acts. A spark of light that shone brighter as any righteous man's soul from time to time.

Something he would've never admit to anyone of his kind. - Not that he was talking to them a lot anyway. Except he needed informations. And then it had more the nature of torture instead of a chat when they wouldn't spill.

Now here he was. Surrounded by exorcised vessels, who were completely clueless about what had just happened. Gladly they were in a hospital, so neither the doctor, nor the cute blonde nurse were going to die because of the stab wounds.

It wasn't like these people deserved death, Dean thought. Those people were _good_ humans. They were helpers and carers, live-savers. Something Dean Winchester didn't think he could ever be.

He looked over at the bed towards the hunter, who had regained conciousness in the middle of the fight. Sam Campbell was about to rip the tube out of his throat, his eyes wide and reddish and watery as he fought against the vent.

For a moment, the demon was thinking, clutching his hand at the angry wound on his left side, wich was bleeding relentlessly. It wasn't like he cared a lot about his own injury, since he knew it'd be all healed up in a couple of days. Though it was a tiny problem. It hurt like a bitch and he had to carry the hunter to his car and had to get him settled on the backseat – somehow. BEFORE those people would regain their right place of mind and would call for the security guards.

Two long strides towards the bed and Dean stood beside the hunter. He laid his hand on the man's shoulder, staring down on him with a serious expression on his face. The demon let the obsidian in his eyes show and Sam went rigid on the bed, his hands still clutching at the tube that wouldn't go out that easy.

Dean fumbled for something in the back-pocket of his jeans. When he had found what he was looking for, he pulled it out and held it up in the dim light, so that the hunter would see what he was holding in his hands.

„I'm sorry, Sam.", he muttered and winced as his movement tore on the wound. „Can't need you fightin' me during the drive."

Sam shook his head as his blurry vision slowly started to focus on the syringe in the demon's hand. Besides the searing pain in his chest and the burn in his throat, he felt weak and practically helpless against any attack that was about to come. He wasn't even able to pull the damn freakin' tube out of his throat, nor yell …

Sam felt a pinch in his arm and a couple of seconds later he saw darkness crawl into his vision from the edges and his eye-lids got heavier with every wink …

* * *

It had been a damn freaking torture to get gigantor onto one of the gurneys and out of the damn room. Dean had to knock two of the staff out and drag them to the side, so that he'd be able to get the hunter in the corridor.

Some people gave him weird looks on his way through the hospital, since he looked like someone transporting a corpse into the morgue with bloody hands and a bloody shirt.

The Winchester couldn't be bothered much about it. In a matter of fifteen minutes he'd have the hunter in his car and they'd be out of town and back on the highway towards the Canadian border.

Dean could feel all firm muscles and soft skin against his palm, when he maneuvered the hunter into the back-seat of his black beauty. The half-naked, male human was one hell of a looker. Something the demon didn't quite knew how to _not_ touch nor look at. The guy could've been a great sex-partner if it wouldn't have been for the fact that Sam was a _hunter_ – and dangerous to everything that wasn't human.

Anyway, that wasn't why the Campbell was here. He was here because he needed THIS man. He needed to get him back to health and strong enough. And he needed to be careful around him. Hunters weren't obedient and afraid just because they saw a pair of black eyes. They'd try to fight and kill them in any state of health.

When he had the sasquatch settled on the back-seat, his gaze got caught for a couple of long moments at the glimpse of a stripe of bare skin – actually a very meaty part of the hunter's body. Dean sighed heavily and went to get a blanket from the trunk to cover the guy's bare buttocks .

When he was all done, he slid behind the steering wheel and gazed down on himself, his look lingering on the crimson sodden shirt. His _favorite_ shirt. Man he had known he shouldn't have chosen this one for that damn job.

Fifteen minutes later, he was with his precious freight on the highway like planned. He took care of not busting any speed-limits for the next couple of miles, so he'd raise no attention.

It was still dark, but dawn would be settling over the land soon. That would be when he'd start to look out for some place to hole up for an hour or two, sewing himself up and checking on the hunter, maybe even giving him another shot of sedatives.

* * *

Morning was breaking over the land, when the sleek black beauty of a '67 Impala turned on a dirt road, surrounded by fields. That was about the time, his human freight started to stir and shift.

„Nah … you won't.", Dean muttered and pushed the gearshift lever into park in front of a pretty messed up, abandoned small house. He got out of the car and walked around it, stopping in front of the trunk. He popped it open and pulled his duffel-bag out, which he dumped on top of the hood and pulled out a vial and a new syringe.

When he was done filling the syringe with the sedative, he went towards the door of the backseat and pulled it open. Without hesitating, he yanked the blanket back and drove the needle into Sam's thigh, where he emptied the syringe's contents.

Dean covered the man again and locked the door, before he went into the house with his bag. Inside, he looked around the filthy place, his face screwed up in disgust.

He definitely had to deal with it this way or another. Though it was a mess, gladly he wouldn't suffer from any infections as humans did. So he'd sew the stab-wound up and get dressed in fresh clothes.

With a sigh, he dropped the bag on the rotten couch and slumped down beside it. He then shed his jacket and shirt and eyed the bad-looking wound intently. A couple of stitches and the wound wouldn't look that bad later when it was all healed and nice again.

Dean cleaned his torso and the wound from the dried blood and sewed himself up with the precision of a surgeon. Sure it was painful and made him grunt every now and then, but it wasn't as if the pain bothered him very long, or that he did care about it.

It was just another wound among others. He didn't even feel the loss of blood that bad as he had the first couple of times he had been hurt badly. A regular human would probably be dead by now … but Dean Winchester wasn't regular. In any aspect of his eternal life.

When he was finally done, he cleaned it again, packed the suture kit away and got dressed in a fresh shirt. He then sat back down on the couch and pulled a bottle of whiskey out of the duffel and took a long swig.

With a groan, he rested his head on the backrest of the couch and closed his eyes. He just hoped that all the troubles he had been through and the ones that would come along were worth it. He needed this to be over. Dean needed the ritual to work or he'd never know what life under normal circumstances would be like.

Maybe he even could have a little _fun_ with the hunter in between.

* * *

Two hours later, he was back behind the steering wheel and on the road. The hunter on the backseat was still out, though he glanced into the rearview mirror every now and then, since his freight had started to sweat a few miles ago, even if it wasn't a that warm autumn-day in late september.

Dean concluded that it had to be a fever … maybe he had picked up an infection. Not uncommon after injuries and a surgery, though mighty unpleasant. Any injury or sickness would put the Winchester's purposes on the edge of failing.

He had still about three hundred miles to go until they'd reach their destination … _crap_. Dean hadn't counted on having to stop every couple of miles, or to hole up in some motel or abandoned building for a day or two. Something that didn't fit in his plans … and when something didn't fit into his plans, he could get pretty pissed and moody.

„Fuck.", he cursed through gritted teeth. Though, gladly he was steeled for that kind of shit too. He had everything in his trunk that'd guarantee the human's health.

Ten miles ahead they passed a sign which read, that there was a diner and a motel twenty miles ahead.

Dean glanced into the rearview mirror once more, his eyes flashing black. Twenty miles up or down wouldn't matter for the hunter anyway. So he kept on driving until the motel got in sight and turned off of the highway towards the lonely building.

There were just three cars parked in front of the diner, of which one had to be the car of the owner. Since Dean didn't find a clerk's office at the back where motel-room were, he went into the diner and took a place at the counter. There were two old men playing poker on one of the tables behind him, eying him suspiciously.

All in all the diner looked like you could get yourself a whole lot of stomach-bugs from the food. Clean was definitely different.

The waitress behind the counter was preparing coffee for herself at the moment. As she turned around, he checked her patch, wich read _Missy_ _M_. Besides all the dirt and worn down upholsteries, the lady behind the counter looked pretty nice and clean. She had dark skin and deep brown eyes. She was a bit chubby, what fit perfectly well to her whole appearance. Missy had her curly hair pinned up with two hairpins and had those – really expensive - fake-fingernails.

„Hey, boy.", Missy said, her voice a bit scratchy as if you drew your nails over a blackboard, but warm. So was her smile. „What can I get ya?"

Dean gave her a charming smile, flashing his bright dimples at her. „I'd love to rent one of your rooms – two kings – if that's possible, ma'am?"

She chuckled and lightened a cigarette, seeming not charmed by the demon's tries to spread his magic. „You can – but I'm not sure if you want to as soon as you've seen it ..."

Dean shrugged. „I'm fine with everything you got for me. - Just have to stop for a night – my friend's sick and he needs some rest." He gave her a soft smile and blinked at her, trying the thing with his eye-lashes.

But no such luck. She seemed completely unimpressed by his tries to flirt with her.

Her face darkened. „There would be a doctor in the next town. - About fifty miles ahead on the highway, boy ..." She looked concerned all of a sudden. „Maybe you'd like to get him there ..."

Dean instantly noticed the way she glanced at the both men on the table behind him and could practically feel their looks drilling into his back. He locked his gaze with the lady's. „It's just the flu, ma'am and I got everything we need. He's a giant guy and needs somewhere to stretch out, you know?"

He heard the rustling of clothes and movement behind him. With a sigh he tilted his head down and turned halfway around on the stool, flashing the both older men obsidian eyes and a feral look.

The two had already gotten to their feet and were about to reach for their guns when they saw his black eyes and dangerous look. Dean stared at them for a long moment, making sure they'd see HIM. Both men looked rather shocked at the black-eyed man, and swallowed thickly before they sat back down.

Dean gave them a short nod and when he looked back at Missy, his eyes were of a deep emerald-green and a small smile was tugging on his lips.

„If it's not a problem for you, we'd like to stay, ma'am." He reached into his front-pocket and pulled out a bundle of bills, laying thirty on the counter. „One night. We'll be gone by eleven tomorrow morning … and ..." He cocked an eyebrow, just as when he was flirting with a chick he was about to take home with. „One of your amazing bacon-cheese-burgers would lighten up my day."

She gave him a tense smile. „Fries?", she asked.

He gave her a nod. „And coke."

„What about your friend? - He ain't hungry?" Her eyebrows furrowed.

Obviously she didn't know with whom she was talking, nor WHAT she was talking to. Something the lady would get into troubles sooner or later. Then again, Dean bet that she had a loaded sawed off under the counter …

„Nah. - Got tomato soup in cans. Guess he won't hold anything solid down." He winked at her.

„Fine." She squat down and fumbled in a drawer and when she came back up she held a key with a black key-chain in her hand, which she laid on the counter, in front of Dean. „Your room. _Seven_."

Whit a nod, Dean slid from the stool. „Thank's ma'am. - I'll get the food in about an hour."

As he passed the both men, he gave them another glare, his eyes solid black and his expression devilish.

* * *

Dean parked the Impala behind the diner, where the rooms were, that neither the guys from the diner, nor passing cars would see how he howled the giant human out of the backseat and carried him in a fireman's carry inside their room. Finally there, he threw the man on the bed with a pained grunt.

„Dude … you ain't supposed to weigh that much." Dean rubbed over his side where he had patched himself up hours ago and shook his head.

Sam lay there on top of the covers on the bed farthest from the room, dressed in hospital gown. His skin was clammy and pale and his breaths came out in short puffs.

The demon's forehead creased and there was a spark of empathy in those eyes. „What the hell did I even heal you for, bitch?"

Not that Dean awaited any kind of response. With a deep sigh he went to the other bed, where he had dropped his duffel and pulled out a case. Then he moved over to Sam's bed and opened the zipper, laying out vials and a syringe on the nightstand. The demon grabbed for two of them and filled the syringe with each half of them, before he shoved Sam's gown up and injected it into his thigh.

Dean recapped the syringe and threw the comforter from his bed over the man. „Hope you're gettin' well soon. - Ain't no use for you if you're gonna be sick all the damn time.", he growled. Though it didn't come out as threatening as it was meant to be. There hadn't been a use for that anyway, since the hunter couldn't understand him.

Later he picked up the food from the diner. Missy had also made chicken brew for his sick „_friend_". Dean took the things with a grateful expression on his face, but once behind the dinner, he poured the soup over the gravel before he entered his and the human's room.

„Not even seen the boy and instantly gettin' all mother hen about him.", he muttered while he closed the door behind him. „Humans ..."

He put the bag with his food on the table and threw the paper-bowl into the trash can between their beds. On his way towards Sam, he got cuffs from his duffel, with which he bound Sam's right hand to the headboard of the bed. Dean didn't even bother to check on the sick human, nor on his injury. Nor was he bothered about the awkward angle in which his arm was placed as he was cuffed to the bed.

Back at the small table, Dean slumped down in one of the chairs and started to unpack his greasy breakfast. When he was all done, he went over to his own bed and sprawled out on top of it, not bothering about his dirty boots on the sheets.  
Now that he was all sated and tired, he would grant himself some rest and a couple of hours sleep.

* * *

Dean hadn't realized that he had slept for more than just a couple of hours. It was already dark outside when his eyes flew open. He sat upright with a jolt, his gaze darting through the room, curious about what had woken him.

Instantly he looked towards the other bed.

The hunter was restless, tearing on his binding, whimpering and groaning as if he was in pain … in _pain_. Sure he had to be in pain. The last shot he had probably gotten in the damn hospital and now he was running empty with a not quite healed wound in his chest.

With an annoyed grunt, the demon swung his legs out of bed and rubbed over his face. „Hey!", he yelled towards the other bed, „save up your reserves for later, dude. - I'm on my way." With another grunt he got to his feet and was on Sam's side in a long stride.

Tired as he was, he sat down on the bed, reaching for the case with vials. He looked the man over and for the first time his gaze lingered a bit too long at the hunter's face. He was all soaked in sweat and lines of pain were plastering the young face. Again something like emotion flared up in the demon's heart – something he couldn't allow. He needed this man. He was going to USE him. There was no way he could allow himself to develop feelings of any kind for him.

So he tore his gaze away and towards the vials. He looked at the watch on his wrist and frowned. He was overdue with the shot of antibiotics and the label on the vial with the morphine read that it was already expired since two months. Dean thought for a long moment but filled the syringe with both liquids anyway.

Termination dates were overrated anyway and he didn't have anything else besides the sedatives to keep the hunter under the surface …

Dean put everything back into the case and laid it back on the nightstand when he was done. Despite his aversion towards feelings, he stayed at Sam's side until he had settled down again. It wasn't like Dean cared (no way). But he needed the man. He needed him to save himself, so he had to take care of him and get him back on his feet.

…_... to be continued_

* * *

_hey, folks! Let me know if I'm on the right way_

_and as always: FEED ME SOME PROMPTS, huh? _


	3. Chapter 3 The Devil You Don't Know

_**Obsidian ~ Raise A Little Hell**_

**The Road So Far:**

_Termination dates were overrated anyway and he didn't have anything else besides the sedatives to keep the hunter under the surface …_

_Dean put everything back into the case and laid it back on the nightstand when he was done. Despite his aversion towards feelings, he stayed at Sam's side until he had settled down again. It wasn't like Dean cared (no way). But he needed the man. He needed him to save himself, so he had to take care of him and get him back on his feet._

* * *

_**Chapter 3 ~ The Devil You Don't Know**_

Dean hadn't settled back into his bed.

_Nope. _

He hadn't been able to do so ... no matter how bad he had wanted to ...

There had been this human douchebag hunter, who had been so damn restless again, two hours after he had given him the last shot, that he was tempted to give him some more sedatives (or to simply put a pillow over his face). But he couldn't. It was impossible. If he dared to, he risked the hunter's life. The sedatives weren't just sedating him, they were also slowing down his heart rate and laboring his breathing.

So he had stayed awake until the early morning hours, watching out for the hunter. In the meanwhile he had checked their route on the map and where he could possibly throw in another stop if it would get necessary.

At about nine in the morning, he decided that it was safe to leave the hunter alone and get breakfast from the diner.

The two men from the day before weren't there, just Missy behind the counter, putting out another cigarette in the full ash tray. When the door of the diner rang, she looked up from the newspaper she was reading in and eyed the arriving demon suspiciously.

With a smile, she placed a mug on the counter and poured in some black coffee, when he sat down on the same stool as he had the day before.

"You look like you need it.", she said with a risen eyebrow.

Dean gave her a sharp nod. "Thanks."

"Your friend kept you up all night, huh?", she asked then – still in this way as if she was weighing his very word.

When Missy didn't get an answer, she continued: "You look like a bacon-and-scrambled-eggs man ..."

Dean gave her a small smile.

He wasn't a morning person. He had never been. Best was, to not talk to him, nor even look at him. Specially not after a night like this. Sure, common demons didn't have to sleep and Dean wasn't any different. Though, every now and then he needed a nap, specially when he was wounded and hurting (what he would never admit to anyone).

She nodded, obviously taking that as a yes. "Fine. Eggs and Bacon to your coffee. - Up in ten, son."

The demon cocked an eyebrow at the odd lady and sniffed. Son? _... if she knew what he truly was._ A murderer, a killer, a liar, a bastard. That was what he was and not someone's _son_. He had lived way too long to be even called _boy_.

But he decided to let it slip and took a gulp from the black luke-warm liquid. A surprised expression crossed his face. This place sure as hell looked like the worst diner he had ever been to, but the coffee was great.

After ten minutes, he got his eggs, bacon and toast, which he devoured slowly. When he was done, Missy placed a paper-bag beside him on the counter and looked at him seriously.

"If you pour my chicken brew on the gravel AGAIN I'm gonna whack you with a spoon, boy. - The man ain't your friend, nor a relative. I know who you are and what you are.", She said calmly. "You may passed the saltline's and didn't get caught im my devil's trap, but you sure as hell ain't human. You're a knight ..." Her eyes narrowed. "But then again ... you'd have put Steve and Garry down int he blink of a second yesterday. So I suppose you're _the_ Winchester, aren't you?"

Dean looked at her surprised. By all looks of it, she was definitely _human_ and though she knew who he was.

"That's none of your business, lady." The Winchester's eyes narrowed and flashed black. He leaned onto his elbows on the counter and a bit forward, coming dangerously close. "You're a psychic, aren't you?", he said low – feral, in the intention to scare her off.

"You better look out for the hunter, you hear me?", she continued completely unimpressed. "You feed him and you're gonna take care of him – in the best way your black soul allows you to." Her serious expression lightened a bit as she pointed at the paper-bag.

Dean snarled and sat back, never breaking eye-contact with Missy. "Why would I do that?" He thrust his yaw forward, the muscles in his neck working.

"The same reasons why you want your soul to be human, Dean.", she said, rising both eyebrows as if the demon's intentions were clear as day. "Tell you that, son: No matter what your daddy said to you when you was a kid, no matter what YED thought he'd be able to make of you ... you're stubborn as hell and only follow your own plan. You won't be able to take his blood when it's time. You won't be able to let him bleed out, sacrifice him to get what you want. - For the same reasons you couldn't kill Gordon, even if he deserved it." She tilted her head to the side. "Because you're more human than you think. - So ... since I knew you'd come ... There's a ritual inside – one where you won't have to kill Sam to get what you want – but the ritual bargains something else ..."

Dean frowned, his eyes returning to his normal green as he looked at the bag, obviously thinking hard about the woman's words. "Is that so?", he asked pensively.

"I wouldn't say it if it weren't that way, Dean." She poured him some more coffee into the mug.

"Who says that ain't a trap and I'm gonna explode?", his gaze darted back at the dark tanned lady.

She chuckled and shook her head. "I'm not a liar – compared to you."

Dean laid two ten-dollar bills beside his empty plate.

"Take it, or leave it, boy." She took the plate from the counter and turned around. When she turned back towards the counter, Dean had already grabbed the bag and was about to leave the diner. "And hurry up with packing up your precious freight!", she called after him, "They're on their way."

Dean stopped in his tracks and gazed back over his shoulder, giving her a nod. "You are going to be okay?" He couldn't suppress to ask her that. It wasn't like he was a complete bastard and would let a defenseless woman to a bunch of rabid demons.

She just grinned. "Don't you worry, boy. - I ain't made of sugar." Missy winked at him.

* * *

Half an hour later, he was back on the road with a unconcious, drugged hunter on his backseat. He haven't taken time to check the paper-bag, or had a look at whatever present she had inside. Dean'd have time as soon as they were in their save place.

A cabin that had belonged to his father and haven't been occupied in about twenty years now. He hoped that the building was still standing and not rotten to the ground. Because THEN he'd have a little problem.  
Dean cursed himself, but then again he wouldn't have had time to check on it anyway. Everything had gone fast these past couple of days and he haven't got time to check on the damn house before.

He made two stops on their way. Each one to check on the human, giving him some water and drugging him with antibiotics and morphine.

All the while he was thinking about the psychic's words and an alternative ritual to what he had found years ago. He thought about how close he was to what he longed for and though how far it was away.

He also thought about if it was even possible to cleanse his soul from the darkness, since he had been born with it, since it was a part of him ever since. The Winchester just wanted to get rid of it. He didn't want to be a knight of hell, nor what the Yellow Eyed had in plan for him. He wasn't a ruler, nor a commander. Hell, he wasn't even a leader.

Dean Winchester was a straying lone wolf and he loved it that way. Okay, he maybe didn't love it all the damn time ... but most of it he did.

* * *

They didn't stop again, except for gas and snacks. One of the awesome things were, that Dean could eat whatever the hell he wanted without having to regret it later. There wasn't even a single pound of fat on the man (well, except for the little of baby fat below his navel).

It was some time in the night when they pulled up in front of a cabin, surrounded by woods. It was way cooler over here than it had been in Fargo, where they had stopped for the last time. It didn't bother the demon, though he knew that it would definitely affect the human. So he got a second blanket from the trunk and threw it over the sleeping form on the backseat. Again his look lingered way longer on the hunter's sleeping form than he was aware of.

His first way was into the bedroom, on the left side of the small kitchen-living-room. Everything looked filthy and old and not very inviting.

Already pissed at the work he had before him to get this damn place halfway clean again, he got to work and started with the damn freaking bed. Dean was wondering if there were mice in that mattresses ... at least there had been some, since the mattresses were all holey (so was the comforter and dusty pillows). He wouldn't be able to keep that things anyway. They were too dirty to sleep on them. Specially not very good for a wounded human.

With a deep sigh and thinking about what he was going to do about it, he decided that there was no way he could lay the human on that crappy bed, not to mention, covering him with any of the comforters.

Something he should've thought of before ...

Frustrated and pissed at himself, he got back into the car and stole a glance at the backseat before he turned the ignition around.

"Fuck it.", he cursed.

* * *

Two hours, and a full trunk and stuffed on passenger's seat later, he returned to the cabin. Pissed at the fact that he had been waiting for an eon in every one of the shops he had been, he stomped up the porch with his arms full of STUFF. Again he went into the bedroom and dropped the things he had brought inside on the crappy mattresses.

His eyes flashed black and he rose his right hand. Then – ever so slowly – dust and dirt seemed to rise into mid-air, so did the crappy comforters and pillows. The window of the room flew open, and with a single wink of Dean's hand, the dirt and waste and everything else, burned up and smouldered into black and grey ashes.

"Out.", Dean commanded and the ashes flew out of the window.

The demon's eyes changed back to normal and he looked around satisfied. Okay, it might haven't been that bad to clean the damn room, though it wasn't one of Dean's favorite things to do.

Anyway. He hurried up to get the bed covered in new sheets, beddings and pillows.

When everything was settled, he went back out of the house and to the car, getting the hunter inside and settled. It was time for another set of shots against the fever and pain and maybe he'd add a bit of the sedatives.

* * *

Finally done with the freaking gigantor next door, he brought the other things inside and dumped them on the sideboard beside the sink.

Dean cleaned the kitchen-living-room the same way like he had done with the bedroom. He then stored the bought food in the cupboards and went outside to the back at the house to refill the generator with gas and turning on the water.

When he was all done there, he filled the wheelbarrow with logs and placed it in front of the porch. With a couple of logs he then went inside and made fire in the fire-place.

Demons froze too. - They just weren't bothered by the cold, except when they were. And Dean Winchester prefered it to have it warm nonetheless. Besides ... the human would appreciate a warm house too he, guessed.

Before he sat down on the couch, he checked on the hunter once more and secured his wrists to the head of the bed with a pair of cuffs. He couldn't take any chances about that, or he'd lose his head.

Time to relax and have a look at the contents of the paper-bag. He reached for it and opened it, gazing inside.

Dean grabbed two burgers and fries and laid them on the small coffee-table before the couch, to get to the precious sheet of paper at the very bottom. Dean pulled it out and unfolded it.

On the top of it was written:

_You give that boy something do eat, or I swear I'll whack you with my spoon!_

Dean Winchester's lips curled up into an amused grin.

Then he kept on reading, concentrating on the ingredients that were written in a line and then the instructions about how to use them. Then he read the line at the very end of the sheet and his frown grew deeper ... and pissed ... straight towards annoyed.

Of course had this spell a special note. A circumstance that was inevitable to make it work. It had to happen in consent. Sam Campbell had to give his blood because he wanted to give it to him ...

_Say those words in one's free will and from the bottom of one's heart._

Suddenly the ritual he had already, seemed more appealing as this new one. He wouldn't need the man's consent. Though it would high likely cost his life ... bleeding out, rarely someone survived ...

_Or_ he would make the hunter want it.

A genuine smile formed on the demon's lips as if a lightbulb got illuminated in his mind.

Though he had to get the hunter coherent enough to say his part of the spell, make him cut himself and bleed into the bowl. Something that was high likely manageable. He'd get the hunter to say it out of free will and from the bottom of his heart. And if not ... _he'd make him ... _

Dean folded the piece of paper and stuffed it into the front-pocket of his jeans. Then he sighed and eyed the both burgers wich were wrapped up in paper.

But before this spell would get to work, he needed the hunter's blood clean ...

Upon the next task. Gettin' the Campbell to open up and drink and eat something. He couldn't let him starve, could he? Now that he would high likely survive the NEW ritual.

Okay ... this pissed him off somehow. How would he get the guy to eat and drink in his condition?

A new idea bloomed in his mind and he went into the kitchen-part of the room, where he grabbed one of the cans from the cupboard above the sink.

He opened it and glared daggers at the red goo inside, as if he wanted to threaten it. Dean then grabbed one of the middle-sized mugs from the cupboard beside and eyed it for a moment. The filth of about twenty years in and all over it ... Dean blew into it, spinning up a small fountain of dust. He thought for a moment, but shrugged and poured half of the red goo (that was calling himself tomato-soup) in it.

The demon made his way into the bedroom, his gaze glued to the unconscious form on the bed while he walked at the bed's side. He then bowed over the hunter and thought again.

The Campbell needed to be conscious or otherwise he'd choke on the soup.

Dean rolled his eyes and placed the mug on the bedside-table. This sucked bigstyle. He wasn't a damn nurse, was he?

* * *

There was just blackness. Blackness and the cold. And he felt pain. Searing hot pain that radiated from his chest into his neck, shoulder and generally into his whole damn torso. And if that wasn't enough, every single breath hurt like a bitch.

_Oh god ._.. how bad he wanted to stay in that cold darkness. How bad he wanted to draw back again. But he couldn't. There was a strong hand on the back of his neck and one on his yaw. Then there was a burning sensation all over his right cheek ...

Had someone just slapped him? HIM? He heard a muffled voice tearing through the haze in his mind. A voice that wasn't any familiar – at least at first. The voice sounded male and annoyed ... or actually pissed?

Sam didn't care. He wanted to sleep and be left alone. He didn't want to open his eyes.

The hands shifted slightly and he felt his head being tilted up. Then there was something cool against his bottom lip ... and liquid made its way into his mouth.

Crap – that tasted like _piss_.

Worse than just piss. _Three days old piss. _

Not that there was any possibility Sam knew how three days old piss tasted like ...

The liquid made its way past his tonsils and down his throat.

And it was too much in one go. Whoever was pouring that shit into him, had no clue how to handle that. Sam hurried up to swallow the piss-like cold liquid, but his abused throat couldn't handle that much at once and he choked, gasped and fought to get some air into his lungs.

* * *

Dean cursed and pulled the mug away from the hunter's lips. Maybe he had to go a bit slower ...

When Sam had stopped to wheeze and gasp and cough, he set the mug to his lips again and let him empty the rest of the soup. This time slower and with some pauses.

Satisfied with himself and the mastered task, Dean eyed the hunter for a long moment. "Wasn't _that_ difficult, was it?" He cocked an eyebrow.

Dean went into the kitchen and got another mug full of soup and returned to Sam's side to feed him the rest of that shitty looking goo. When the hunter had drunk it all, he took a napkin and cleaned Sam's lips and wiped away the thin red trail of soup that had gotten down his neck.

Even more satisfied now, he went back into the kitchen and dumped the dirty mug into the sink. The demon then got bandages and disinfection liquid (corn schnapps) from his duffel. Moving back into the bedroom he laid the things out on the nightstand to have a look at the wound where Sam had been injured.

About time he'd see how good his healing abilities really were, he thought. All in all – for the fact that the hunter had been abandoned to die – he had done real good, _hadn't he_? The hunter was _alive_. And for the fact, that it had been his first time he healed someone, he supposed he was all special and utterly proud of himself.

Without giving a lot of thought about the way he would do this, he yanked the comforter and blanket from the bound body on the bed. He didn't even give a damn about privacy at that part. The guy was meat. - Handsome meat but nonetheless _meat_.

The hunter could be glad he had saved his life, shouldn't he?

Dean pulled the hospital gown up and threw the thin fabric over Sam's face in the process. There was a giant bandage covering the left side of the man's chest and half of his ribcage. Without uttering a single thought about how uncomfortable (or hurtful) it was to rip the plasters from the hairy part of the man's chest, he pulled it off.

The skin below the bandage was of an angry red and the area around the stitches, where the surgeons had cut the man open, were swollen and didn't look that good.

Okay, maybe his healing-skills weren't that amazing. He was a demon, _okay_? Born to torture and deliver pain ... not to heal humans who'd probably try to kill him if they could.

Dean poured a generous amount of the antiseptic fluid (corn schnapps) over the stitches, not caring that the sheets below the man got soaked and would stink of alcohol.

There was a pained whimper from under the hospital gown where the hunter's face was covered. The demon cocked both of his eyebrows and repeated the action – just to see if it'd have the same effect.

_It had. _

Since he hadn't any clean sheets to wipe the fluid from the skin, he let it dry. Meanwhile, he made himself a pot of coffee with five spoons full of sugar and drank it slowly before he went back to the hunter, who still laid in the same position.

Dean then patched the stitches back up and pulled the gown down. Carelessly he threw the comforter and blanket back over the hunter's form and went back to his own business – which was to adjust the antenna of the TV on the roof of the cabin.

Three hours later and covered in bruises from half a dozen falls from the roof, Dean returned into the cabin, where he slumped down on the couch and switched on the TV. Annoyed about the lack of channels and the shit that was playing on every single one of them, he started to devour the burgers from the dinner.

* * *

_Two days ... _two damn long days of cleaning that bastard up and feeding him soup. Two days of changing bandages and bed-sheets, since that idiot of a hunter was pissing himself at least three times a day ...

Dean was tempted to not give him anything to drink anymore until he was more coherent and would be able to get into the bathroom by himself.

He wasn't a damn nurse, was he?

Nor was he the Catholic Charity. - It wasn't his fault, that the Campbell hadn't any clothes ... It wasn't his fault that the guy needed help with every damn thing.

He was a hunter, wasn't he? He was supposed to get his shit together faster than a normal human. There was no way a guy like him would let himself go like that ...

Dean Winchester was beyond annoyed. He hadn't thought that it'd take that long to get the guy back on his feet.

Besides all that, the Campbell had managed to screw the skin under the metal-cuffs up. All raw and red ... _such an idiot. _

* * *

_Another day later,_ the human finally managed to come around. THANK GOD!

Dean had been beyond annoyed and had to get the cuffs off of him and wrap fabric around the metal so he wouldn't start to bleed – just to cuff him again. This time just his right arm.

* * *

Sam groaned. The pain in his chest wasn't that bad anymore as the last time he had gotten woken up by loud chattering somewhere close to him. Even his wrists didn't sting that bad anymore. Okay, maybe his left wrist didn't, but his right arm was still held in an awkward angle, that made his elbow and shoulder hurt.  
What a mess.

At least he felt partially better. The haze in his mind wasn't that thick anymore and his way to the surface of conciousness wasn't that hard to reach.

After what seemed like an eternity, he managed to roll his heavy eyelids up a bit to get a glimpse from where he was. And to his surprise, it wasn't white (like it was supposed to be in a hospital). Instead there were brown colors and a shape that looked like a doorway. His forehead creased and he started to remember what had happened that made him hurt and find himself here.

Okay, he remembered the car and the chest wound. He remembered that it was hard to breathe and the dark tanned man who was yelling at him ... and then everything was fading pretty fast. And now he was here ...

NAKED. Holy shit, he was _naked_. He could feel the fabric of the comforter against his precious parts as he tried to shift.

That was about the same moment he noticed that he was bound – with one hand ...

"Fuck ...", Sam breathed and squeezed his eyes shut. He actually felt like puking. And there was this foul taste in his mouth and the feeling of fur on his teeth and tongue. "Shit ..." He groaned and tugged weakly on the cuffs that were holding his arm in the same position.

"See who decided to come around, ha?" The voice came from the blurry figure that was entering the room. Something told the hunter that he should know who this was ... something told him that he had to be careful and wary about this man.

Sam sniffed and followed the man with his gaze as he moved with a mug towards him. He didn't like the tone in the man's voice ... nor the expression on his face as the blur started to fade and everything became clearer.

When he stood beside him, Dean wore a serious expression. "From now on you're gonna get your ass into the bathroom when you've to take a leak.", he said coldly.

Sam blinked up at him confused, not quite clear what the man was talking about. "Who ... who 're ..." He swallowed, tried to get the words out, but his throat was dry ... and somehow his tongue wouldn't obey either.

"Who I am?", the man asked, a sly grin forming on his lips. "Your savior, hunter.", he said and let his eyes morph into obsidian.

Sam Campbell's eyes widened in an instant. Horror, fear and anger crossing his features with a mix of confusion.

"Demon.", he hissed through gritted teeth.

Dean's eyes morphed back to normal and he tilted his head to the side. "Now that you know who I am and I know who you are ... What about gettin' the show on the road, huh?"

Sam's eyes widened. He _was screwed_. SO SCREWED.

_... to be continued_

* * *

_LEAVE ME SOME REVIEWS ABOUT HOW YOU WANT THIS TO CONTINUE, HUH?_

_is there a special scene you want to have in there? _


	4. Chapter 4 So You Know

_**Obsidian ~ Raise A Little Hell**_

**The Road So Far:**

_"Who I am?", the man asked, a sly grin forming on his lips. "Your savior, hunter.", he said and let his eyes morph into obsidian._

_Sam Campbell's eyes widened in an instant. Horror, fear and anger crossing his features with a mix of confusion._

_"Demon.", he hissed through gritted teeth._

_Dean's eyes morphed back to normal and he tilted his head to the side. "Now that you know who I am and I know who you are ... What about gettin' the show on the road, huh?"_

_Sam's eyes widened. __**He **____**was screwed**__**.**__ SO SCREWED._

* * *

_**Chapter 4 ~ So You Know**_

Dean Winchester hadn't been surprised about the hunter's reaction. He would've rather be surprised if he hadn't completely freaked out ... he knew about the man's reputation among hunters and demons and all the other scum.

So he wasn't surprised either, that Sam spit the tomato soup right back into his face after he had made him swallow half of the mug in one go. Nope, he wasn't surprised. He was pissed.

Such an unthankful brat.

"You know what?", Dean asked, his voice cold, the muscles in his yaw working as tomato-soup dripped from his chin. "That's it. - No food for you for the rest of the day."

Instead of instantly leaving, he walked around the bed to the other side of the bed and got the second pair of cuffs from the nightstand.

"No.", Sam Campbell hissed and did everything, so that the demon wouldn't get his free arm that easy. Though he failed, blaming his weakened state for it. "No ... don't.", he said through gritted teeth.

"Nah, nah, nah ..." Dean had to struggle, to catch the flying limb in midair. This wasn't about strength ... The guy's arms and legs were like the tentacles of an octopus, all lanky and sneaky. _This bastard._ "We want to be nice to each other, won't we?" The demon panted.

"Get off!", Sam's voice was stronger, spurt on by the near threat. "GET OFF! You son of a bitch!"

Dean finally managed to get a hold of his arm and fix him back at the headboard of the bed. "Always with the empty promises, Sammy."

"My name's **SAM**!", the hunter called after the black-eyed man, as he left the room without looking back at him again. Instead the demon chuckled devilish and closed the door behind him, leaving the hunter on his own.

Sam tore on the cuffs, bruising his wrists in the process, until his strength left him and darkness took over again.

* * *

Dean had turned the volume up, so that he wouldn't have to listen to the rants of the hunter in the room next door. It hadn't taken a long time until Sam Campbell had been back under the conscious and had started to yell again.

Though, watching TV with having someone screaming in the background wasn't that satisfying. Nor it was fun (no matter how amusing the demon had thought it was in the beginning). At least not when a show was on, the demon was actually interested in. Okay, maybe not interested, but miraculously he had gotten hooked on _that_ movie.

A vamp and a were fighting over a human girl – _ridiculous_. Obviously someone hadn't gotten the full image of standing in between the fronts. Vampires weren't like this – nor were werewolves. The vamp would suck the chick dry in no-time and leave the corpse to the wolf (maybe).

_Then again_ ... wouldn't that be necrophilia? A shiver ran down Dean's spine and his face screwed up in disgust. "Ewww ...", he muttered and shook his head. That's not where he wanted his thoughts to go.

He was still waiting for the part with the _porn_ ... though, a slight feeling rose inside of him, that there wouldn't be any porn at all ...

Suddenly there was silence from the other room. So abrupt, it startled the demon a bit. He frowned.

More silence.

His frown deepened.

With a "_Damn it_." he rose from the couch and stomped into the bedroom, where a panting hunter laid on the bed completely exhausted and drained.

"Need to take a leak.", Sam muttered embarrassed.

The demon cocked an eyebrow, but nodded. "You try shit, I'm gonna make you regret it.", he said in a warning tone. "Got it?"

Sam nodded and sniffed, not meeting the man's look.

"Good." Dean took the keys of the cuffs from the back-pocket of his jeans and opened the ones that were fixing Sam's left wrist to the headboard. But instead of removing them completely, he attached the loosen end to the ones on Sam's right wrist, before he opened the other ones.

Sam watched the demon stuffing the keys back into the pocket of his jeans and memorized it for later use. His instincts yelled at him to flee, to get out of there. Though, he knew that it was stupid. He was too weak. Besides, he didn't even know where he was.

From the looks of it he was in a cabin and he hadn't heard any traffic. So he had to be somewhere in the woods.

The man would have him, before he'd even get out of the damn door ...

Dean stepped back, tipping with one foot onto the floor. "What are you waiting for?"

Sam lowered his aching arms slowly. Moving with bound hands and an injury like that, he was pretty much hurting. Hell, he couldn't even roll over to his side, as he had to notice.

On top of all that, he was still naked under the covers. He looked up at the demon. "I don't have any clothes on ..."

"Ain't the first time I saw someone bareass-naked, bitch. Now move, or I'll make ya'."

So – after what seemed like an eternity – Sam managed to get his feet out of the bed and sit up. Sam sat there for a while, feeling the stitches in his chest tear on his skin. The air was chilly against his bare torso and legs after a while and it wondered if it truly was cold in the house, or if it was because of the circumstances.

Sam pulled the sheets over his lap to save the bit of dignity he had left.

"I don't have all day.", Dean said impatiently.

"I ... I can't ...", Sam huffed out silently. _This was beyond humiliating. _

He could barely feel his legs, nor his hands or arms. Everything seemed dislocated from his body.

With an annoyed sigh, Dean took a step closer and shoved his arm under Sam's left armpit and hauled him to his feet.

Sam yelped surprised at the sudden change of position, his head growing all dizzy again. He felt his knees buckle and giving in, but there was another strong hand out of nowhere, gripping him tight. The hunter clung to the thin sheet around his hips, holding it in place.

"Let's get this over with.", Dean said coldly and started to drag the man towards the bathroom, which was right behind the door on the opposite wall.

Sam tried to keep the man's pace and allowed himself to lean onto him a bit more.

_God, his bladder was about to burst. _

The demon shoved him into the bathroom and sat him onto the bowl. Again he took a step back, never leaving his gaze from the hunter.

Sam stole a glance at the man, who stood just three feet away from him. The hunter cleared his throat. "I can't when you're in the same room ..."

"Pussy.", he growled.

Sam gave him a glare.

The demon rolled with his eyes in disbelieve. "Fine ... ain't as if you'll be able to flee anyway.", he muttered and turned around to leave the hunter to his business. "You've _five_ minutes." And then he was gone – for exactly _five_ minutes.

When the demon came back in, Sam was sweating furiously, clutching at the sheet that was now covering his body from this shoulders downwards. Dean slid with his arm under the man's armpit and pulled him to his feet.

The hunter swayed, holding onto the sheet to take care that it wouldn't slide down and reveal his bare ass. Without a further word, the demon pulled the taller man with him, back to the bed and let him sit down on it.

Dean Winchester stepped back, waiting for the man to get back in the bed.

But Sam didn't do anything about it. He just sat there, sweating and panting and looking utterly exhausted.

"Back in.", the demon commanded.

Sam huffed out a breath. "What do you even want form me?", he asked silently, as he looked through long bangs at the monster.

"I'm gonna tell ya' soon enough.", Dean answered gruffly. "You get in by yourself?"

Humans were beyond annoying, as this case proofed all over again.

Sam glanced up at him through his bangs, a row of emotions crossing his face. From _anger_ and _fury_ over _fear_ and _despair_ to _rebellion_. "I won't do it. - Whatever you want from me. I won't and you can't make me, _bastard_."

Dean chuckled, an amused smirk building on his face. "Sure. - Let's see about that, _Sammy_." He bowed down, grabbed Sam's legs by the ankles and threw his legs on the bed.

With a strangled gasp, Sam fell back, the skin on his stitches tearing.

The next moment Dean was beside him, getting the chain wich connected the cuffs and opened one of them to fixate him back on the headboard. Though Sam couldn't help himself and he struggled against the vice grip the man had on him.

The hunter gave a final yank at the cuffs, when he was chained to the headboard. "It's SAM.", the hunter insisted stubbornly, glaring at the monster above him. "No one gets to call me otherwise."

"Lets see about that too." The demon chuckled and got back on his feet. "Oh ... by the way ..:", he started in a casual way, "I laid a spell on you while you were out. You try to leave the house, you're dead." He gave the hunter a mischievous grin. "Just so you know."

Sam snarled at him, his glare got even more _glaring_. "Fuck you too, bitch!"

Again the demon chuckled. "Ain't me the one who's the bitch here.", he gave back unimpressed and left the room, closing the door behind him.

* * *

_Five days later ... _

Besides his occasional trips to the bathroom to take care of his business and to get cleaned up, Sam was mostly cuffed to the bed. - Enough time to get up with a plan.

Somehow he had to get the demon to leave the cuffs off of him. He had to gain a little trust ... try to convince the guy, that he wouldn't be any threat ... since he was cursed with a spell and bound to the house (if it hadn't been a lie. - Though he'd find out soon enough.).

Sam Campbell still played the badly hurt hunter, even when he felt a lot better by now. Besides the cockiness and the rough behaviour of the demon, the guy did a good job on the wounds. They were healing nicely and soon the stitches would have to come out.

Besides that, he had thought about the demon's intentions and what he had captured him for. It wasn't as if he was THAT special. Okay, he had killed a whole lot of demons and monsters in the past and sure as hell a lot of the black-eyed bitches were after him ... Maybe this one wanted to sell him to another one or bring him to his boss. But why waiting anyway?

God knew how long they were in the cabin already. Hell – he had no clue. It could've been weeks or just days.

Sam couldn't bother less. The only thought he had in his mind was to get out of there – BEFORE the demon would decide what to do with him – if he hadn't already.

The hunter got torn away from his thoughts, as the door to the bedroom opened. The demon appeared with a mug in his left hand and a bundle of fabric in his right one.

Sam followed his very move warily, until he stood beside the bed. The hunter glanced up at his foe curiously, his lips a tight line.

"Breakfast.", Dean said, placing the mug on the nightstand. He didn't bother to look at the hunter. "Clothes.", He dropped the bundle of fabric beside him on the bed.

Was Sam supposed to be _thankful_? Nope, he definitely wasn't. The guy held him captured and locked down on this bed. There was no reason for him to be grateful._ No way in hell. _

Sam noticed, that the man looked pissed today. No sly smirk, no cocky remark ... The hunter frowned at him. It nearly looked as something was making the demon SAD (if he didn't know better).

And for a split second he felt himself tempted to ask if he was okay.

A demon. Demons were twisted bastards. Demons didn't feel sad, or worried, or desperate (except it was about sex or something else they wanted to own). Demons were evil sons of bitches. Bloodthirsty. Cruel. Cold. They didn't respect anything or anyone.

Sam kept quiet, just watching the man, as he bowed over him and fumbled for the keys in his pocket. Dean then gripped the handcuffs and removed them from the headboard. This time he didn't cuff them together. Instead he stuffed the key back into his jeans and turned around.

Again he didn't look at the human.

Sam was utterly confused. Slowly – never leaving the demon out under his watch since this could be a trap – he lowered his aching arms and hands and rubbed at his left shoulder. He watched the demon leave the room and close the door behind him.

This time he locked it.

Sam Campbell sat up slowly and winced. His chest still hurt occasionally, when he made a wrong move. Though, he managed to sit up at the edge of the bed.

Tentatively he reached for the fabric on the other half of the bed and pulled it closer. The bundle revealed boxers, sweat-pants and an oversized hoodie.

Better than nothing anyway. Better than being all _naked_ ...

Then, Sam reached for the mug on the nightstand and took it. He sniffed on the red goo inside and his nose screwed up in disgust. Though he was starving, since his last mug of tomato-soup had been the day before, and emptied it in one fast go.

Disgusted and with a full body-shake, he put the mug aside again and got to his feet to get his business done. Now that his hands weren't bound anymore he could – high likely – take a shower. Maybe there was still enough hot water.

He'd give everything for ten minutes under a stream of steaming hot water ...

Sam had been right. There was _hot_ water. Though there were no towels. After a long moment of thinking, and after the chilly air against his wet skin, he simply pulled his clothes back on.

There was no way in hell he'd call for that bastard to get him something so he could dry himself off. He'd rather die of pneumonia.

* * *

Dean heard the shower go off and sighed heavily.

Since a couple of days without sleep he had decided that it had been about time to get himself some rest.

What a bad idea, actually.

All he had been doing was dreaming. Dreaming about his father ... his brother ... the way they died brutally by the hands of YED. This was about the only thing that was capable of making him feel bad. _The death of his family._ And the fact that Azazel – the yellow eyed demon – was still out there and waiting for him to snap or to come back to him.

Something that'd never happen. Not after what that bastard had done to his beloved family. Okay, his father hadn't been the nicest person towards him, ever since he saw those black eyes in the little boy's face. John had been a hunter. A damn good hunter. And a crappy parent.

Dean knew that John had just been John. And after trying to cut the darkness out of him, exorcise him and bath him in holy water, John had surrendered and had finally seen that his son was what he was. That those black eyes didn't make him any different than he had been before. Because Dean had been born that way.

Dean Winchester had always been a little brat. Ever since e had been born. He was all cocky and self-conscious. He was _him_. And there was nothing wrong about it. Had never been.

Until the day, he turned sixteen ... that was the time he HAD started to change.

The thing that had changed Dean Winchester, the one thing that had made him cold as stone, were the deaths of John and his little brother Adam. THIS had changed him, and nothing else. Past then – after he had watched YED tearing them apart and taking Dean with him – he had decided that feelings were overrated.

After he had seen the demon killing innocent people ... after he wanted Dean to do the same ... He just couldn't.

Because all he had ever wanted was to be normal. No extra cool set of eyes and demon-mojo. That had been back then.

Now he had accepted what he was and had learned to deal with his powers and everything. Dean had let himself drift into the darker areas of his character the more years got in between the death's of his family and today.

He actually couldn't recall why ... how he wouldn't care about a bleeding-to-death guy on the side of the road. He didn't know why he wasn't bothered by young boys pulling pranks on old ladies out on the streets.

He knew back then – before YED had taken him – he would've beaten the hell out of those brats.

**So** ... _here he was. _

In a cabin in the woods. A human hunter locked down in the bedroom – appearently one of fewer people who'd be able to wash his soul clean.

All of a sudden he wasn't sure anymore if he truly wanted his soul to be all shiny white. He'd lose a lot of power ... and being just human didn't sound as good. He would have to get a job, an apartment or a house ... all these things humans used to do ... Dean didn't know if he wanted that. But he knew that he didn't want this dark gaping pit in his stomach ... he didn't want to feel the anger and rage burn deep inside him day for day. He didn't want to let this anger and rage become mightier than it was already ...

He didn't like the way this darkness felt. He didn't like to lose control over things. So he'd prefer to cleanse his soul and leave the whole shit behind.

Dean Winchester needed to become human for his and the world's sake. The only things was, he didn't know if he should be going to sacrifice another humans – a GOOD human's – soul for his own. Okay, the spell Missy had given him sounded pretty good ... though ... getting the hunter to LIKE him – a demon – sounded not just impossible ... it was ridiculous.

Neither helping a demon with a ritual where the hunter would take an important part in and do it because he wanted to, was close to unearthly.

* * *

After the shower he was _done_ ... beyond done ... Sam hadn't thought that something simple like taking a shower could be that draining. - Okay, he knew it, since he have had some pretty bad injuries ... but then again ...

He sighed.

For a long moment he wondered when the demon would come back and cuff him to the bed AGAIN. The man didn't seem stupid enough to leave him like that ... all unbound and running free, even when it was just the bedroom. The demon surely knew, that picking a lock with nothing but a splinter of wood wasn't a lot of a problem for the hunter.

Sam sighed and rubbed over his face, before he crawled back into the bed and sprawled out on it, his long arms to the left and right of him. It felt amazing to move his upper limps freely for longer than ten minutes.

He let his eye-lids fall shut, planning on thinking about a proper plan of how to get through the woods and into the next best town to call Bobby Singer. A mechanic and ex-hunter he hadn't seen in some years. Though he was the only person who could probably help him out at the moment.

Sam wondered if the grizzled former hunter would even remember him ...

That was something he could deal with later anyway. First off he needed to escape and check out if he was truly hexed. And there was just one way to find out ...

With that thoughts cruising through his mind, Sam drifted off to sleep within minutes as fatigue and exhaustion overwhelmed him.

* * *

Dean Winchester sat for some more time on the couch, thinking about how he'd be able to gain the hunter's trust. Okay, _trust_ was the wrong word. He needed the hunter to think that he could trust him ... or at least doubt him less enough to do the ritual with him ...

With a heavy sigh, the demon rose from the couch and marched over to the bedroom-door, which he unlocked. He entered and his gaze fell immediately at the sprawled out form on the bed.

Dean stopped in his tracks and his forehead furrowed about the weird feeling that was growing in his tummy. So warm and comfortable ... and so not demon-like. As fast as he realized that this wasn't something he wanted to feel, he shook it off again and walked over to the nightstand to get the mug.

When he stood beside the sleeping form he noticed the soaked wet fabric of Sam Campbell's clothes and pulled a grimace. _He had forgotten about the towels, hadn't he? _

Wow ... the guy hadn't even demanded to get towels at all ... He could've called for him or something ... But nope ... Nothing but Campbell's pride all the way ...

Seemed like the hunter was at least as stubborn as he himself was.

Dean thought for a moment about cuffing the man back to the bed. But then – if he got the guy right – it wouldn't do any good to the relationship he wanted to grow between the both of them ... at least until the next new moon.

After that it wouldn't matter anymore anyway.

_... to be continued_

* * *

**Somehow I'm not satisfied with this chapter. I read over it over & over again ... * sigh ***


	5. Chapter 5 From The Depths Of The Soul

_**A/N:THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR REVIEWS, FAVORITES & FOLLOWS **_

_since I'm done with the chapter I thought I might as well post it, huh?_

* * *

_**Obsidian ~ Raise A Little Hell**_

**The Road So Far:**

_When he stood beside the sleeping form he noticed the soaked wet fabric of Sam Campbell's clothes and pulled a grimace. ____He had forgotten about the towels, hadn't he? _

_Wow ... the guy hadn't even demanded to get towels at all ... He could've called for him or something ... But nope ... Nothing but Campbell's pride all the way ..._

_Seemed like the hunter was at least as stubborn as he himself was._

_Dean thought for a moment about cuffing the man back to the bed. But then – if he got the guy right – it wouldn't do any good to the relationship he wanted to grow between the both of them ... at least until the next new moon._

_After that it wouldn't matter anymore anyway._

_**Chapter 5 ~ From The Depths Of The Soul**_

Dean heard the muffled shuffling of footfalls from the other side of the door in the bedroom. Three days after he had left him uncuffed for the first time, he was moving around the room more often now.

So the demon figured, that it was about time to make the hunter want to help him out with the ritual. They hadn't talked at all during those days. Dean had brought him his meals inside. Hell, he had even tried to COOK breakfast since there was no way to get take out up here.

Maybe the bacon had been a bit burned and the eggs a little bit dark too … but other than that it hadn't tasted that bad (with enough salt).

Lunch and dinner had been way easier. Ripping open a can and pouring it into a mug – cold as the contents were. But the hunter ate it anyway. - At least the plates and mugs were empty each time he got inside to pick them up.

What actually wondered the demon was, that Sam Campbell hadn't attempted to flee or to kill him YET. The hunter had been mostly on the bed and had his eyes closed when Dean came inside. Though, the demon could tell, that the hunter wasn't asleep. It was an attempt to avoid contact with him high likely.

And the demon wasn't mad about it at all. Getting too close to other beings (and maybe even starting to like them) was no option for someone like him.

Tonight was the night. He awaited the full moon – since that would be the time when they could do the cleansing ritual.

IT was about time to fill the hunter in … _more or less. _

Meanwhile, Sam had been wondering, why he was still alive and untouched. The demon hadn't even tried to get informations out of him, nor had threatened to torture him. Something he couldn't understand and confused him utterly.

So why was this monster holding him captured? The man hadn't said more than two words in the past couple of days to him. And he was glad about it. Actually he didn't want to know WHAT the guy had in store for him.

Lying on the bed and staring at the ceiling, deep in thoughts, Sam didn't notice the door sliding open slowly. Just when Dean Winchester entered, he blinked and looked into his direction with a blank expression on his face.

The demon cleared his throat and locked his gaze with the hunter's.

„It's about time to fill you in.", he started coldly. „It's about a ritual. We need to prepare things. Your body has to get cleansed from the demon-blood that's running through your veins. You're tainted at the moment and you're useless to me like that. When this is done, there will be another ritual in about two weeks. Then there are two options for you. Either we do the one which let you get away alive. Or you choose the one where I'm going to need your whole blood and you're goin' to die."

Sam frowned, his eyebrows furrowed while he listened to the demon. „The first one sounds pretty good. - What's goin' to happen after I've helped you with the ritual?" There was no way there wasn't something off about this. As demons were, it could just be something filthy.

„You're free to go. - Wherever you want. Sixty-five miles north of here is a town.", he explained calmly. „I won't come after you. Nor will I tell any of my kind where you're going to be found, or where I saw you at last."

Sam's frown deepened. There had to be something off about it. No demon would let a hunter go unharmed. Not even when they get what they wanted.

Dean watched the hunter closely. He knew the man didn't trust him, nor did he believe him that he'd be allowed to go when the ritual was over.

„Who says that it's true and that you're not going to kill or try to get informations out of me?", Sam asked matter-of-factly.

„I give you my word." The words were out before Dean had thought about them.

As if the word of a demon was worth anything to a hunter …

Sam huffed out a breath and chuckled sarcastically. He propped up on his elbows and eyed his captor for a long moment, trying to read him. „How come I don't trust you with that?"

Dean just stared at him. He felt a bit hurt but wasn't surprised at all. He wouldn't trust his word either if he was the hunter.

„Take it or leave it.", was all the demon said and turned around on his heels. „We're getting started in two hours. - You think about it."

Sam watched him leaving and heard the lock sliding shut, as the demon locked him back in. Time wasn't on his side. Had obviously never been. So he needed to come up with something else. He knew that he wasn't up yet for a sprint through the woods. Hell, he wasn't even sure if he'd stand a hand to hand fight with a demon. Not without his knife.

Sam flipped back on the bed and continued to stare at the ceiling, one hand resting over the bandaged wound on his chest. He thought about the possibility that the demon had said the truth, that he would let him leave when he was done with him …

Though the hunter couldn't quite believe that. And even if it was that way … what was the thing about the ritual? What was the demon going to do? And what did he need the man for exactly?

And HOW THE HELL could the guy possibly know about the demon-blood-thing. He hadn't told anyone about it. Not even Bobby Singer. He hadn't told anyone about the blood or his visions … or that he had been poisoned with it twenty-six and a half-year ago, when he was still an infant.

Okay, might as well he had to deal with it. Might as well this was a chance for him to lull the demon into a false sense of security when he would do the first ritual. Besides … if it was truly about cleansing his blood from that shit, why shouldn't he agree? Maybe, if he showed the demon, that he was cooperating with his plans, he'd leave him more free-room in the house. And maybe he'd get a chance to get out of there then.

Didn't sound that bad at all, didn't it?

* * *

Dean put the last ones of the herbs into the brass-bowl, which stood on the small table in the kitchen-living-room. The candles and dagger were in place. The light was dimmed and the sigil on the wooden floor around the table was drawn.

He eyed the contents once more and glanced at the bedroom-door.

If the hunter knew what was going to happen in the process of cleaning his body from the blood, he high likely wouldn't agree (as far as he could call it _to agree)_. The aftermath would be definitely hurtful (at least when he believed the things that Dean had read about it in some crappy old books).

That was exactly why he hadn't been able to do this earlier. The hunter had to be up and about for it and strong enough to survive the cleansing ritual.

Eventually Dean went to get the hunter. He unlocked the door and opened it without stepping inside. Sam was sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. He jerked a bit and his head snapped up to face the demon.

He wasn't sure if getting up on his feet and following the guy would mean that he was okay with what was going on.

Dean sniffed and waved at him. „We don't have all night.", he said.

Sam kept a wary eye on the demon as he stood up and moved over to him, where he stopped. Dean nodded towards the kitchen-table and Sam passed him, taking the lead. Instantly his mind started to run about two hundred miles an hour as his look fell on the ingredients of the bowl, the candles and the dagger. Besides that there were some jars with contents of which he didn't know if he wanted to know what were in them.

Sam looked at the demon when he got to a hold beside him and rose both eyebrows, taking in his surroundings from the corners of his eyes. He spotted the front-door and four small windows.

„It's easy." Dean handed the hunter a sheet of paper. „You burn the herbs while you say the first two lines. Then you add two spoons full of each jar. When you are done, you say the last both lines and add your blood. Then you drink the mixture."

Sam glanced at the things ont he small table and then back at the demon. He then took a look at the sheet of paper and looked rather surprised at the latin spell. It truly looked like a cleansing spell …

„What's the point of all that?", the hunter asked and looked at the shorter man again.

„None of your business." Dean walked towards the opposite side of the table. „You do as I say and you're a free man within the next three weeks."

Sam's eyes narrowed suspiciously. „What's in those jars?", he asked suspiciously as he eyed the misty fluids.

„You don't wanna know.", was all Dean had to say. „Now start."

„Why do you need my blood?" Sam completely ignored the order. He had never been good in following orders. Specially not the ones of monsters.

Dean's eyes flashed black and the lines on his face became hard. „Start.", he hissed.

Sam stared at him unimpressed and took a deep breath. He then looked back at the bowl and the dagger.

„That dagger won't kill me, hunter.", Dean pointed out with a sly grin. „It just gonna make me REAL mad if you stab me with it."

Sam grinned. „And it's goin' to pay me some time to get out of here if I do so."

„Try and you'll see that you won't come far." He unscrewed the jars and put a spoon in each one. „Now start."

The hunter sighed and rolled his eyes. Didn't look that good for him anyway.

Sam set the herbs on fire and read the first two lines of the spell in latin. Then he added two spoons full of each jar, saying a line with every content he added. When he was done he read out the last two loudly.

Dean handed him the dagger. „Don't save.", he added, before he let it go.

Sam took a deep breath and dug with the blade into his open palm. Blood dripped into the bow and the demon took the dagger away again.

„Now drink."

Sam gave him a glare, but did it nonetheless. He had barely emptied the sour liquid, when he felt his stomach twist. Oh god, that was disgusting.

„Keep it down." Dean said, eying him as if he was waiting for something to happen.

Sam sat the bowl down and cleared his throat.

„Did it work?" the demon's voice sounded clinical.

„How should I know?", the hunter answered disgusted, bracing himself up on the table.

„What means you don't know?" Now the demon didn't sound clinically anymore. He sounded rather annoyed. „Don't you feel something?" … anything ...

Sam shook his head without looking up. „You got the right spell?"

„Sure I got the right spell.", he defended himself with a deep frown. „You probably read something wrong!"

Again the hunter glared at him.

„Okay. - Again." Obviously finding his composure again, the demon straightened up. „You're gonna do it again. - NOW."

Sam huffed out a lough. „Screw you." No way in hell he'd have a drink of that crappy juice again. EVER.

„I'm the one in charge here.", he reminded the hunter calmly.

Sam Campbell wasn't one to be commanded around. Most of all not from a demon. „Screw you!", he yelled and with one fast smooth motion he wiped over the table with his left arm and sent everything flying and falling to the ground.

What set the demon inside Dean off. He lunged over the table and grabbed the hunter by his collar, pulling him half over the table. The Winchester couldn't stop his other hand from clenching into a tight fist and shoving it right up into the hunter's face a split second later. He let go of Sam's shirt and gave the table a shove so that it was toppling to the side, getting the hindrance out of the way.

Sam felt himself caught off-guard, as he got shoved backwards, up against the wall, feeling strong fingers wrap around his throat. His head was already throbbing with the force of the last punch and misting his mind, so that he didn't see the second one coming, wich hit him right into the guts.

He gasped and struggled, closing his long fingers along the hand's wrist which had him at his throat.

Sam saw movement from the corner of his eye, when the demon lunged out for another punch. But this time he was faster and acted out of reflex, when he pulled his knee up and drove it right into the man's junk.

Just because he was a demon, wouldn't mean that it wouldn't hurt like a bitch if he'd hit him there. And he had been right.

The demon let go of his throat and stumbled back a couple of feet, giving Sam room. Enough room and time to gather himself and take off towards the front-door.

Dean didn't need long to recover, as he saw the hunter aiming for the door. In less than three seconds he was behind him and tackling him to the ground, catching flying long arms and pinning them to the ground.

The hunter writhed beneath him, bucking up with his butt in an attempt to throw his captive off of him.

„Stay.", Dean hissed into the man's ear. „You know what I'm used to do with someone who kicks me? You know what I'm doin' to guys who think they're smarter than me?" His voice was now mere a growl than anything else. Filled with rage and anger and dangerous as hell.

Sam snarled and made another fruitless attempt to get the weight off of him, as he felt a searing pain lancing through his head and down his neck and spine into his legs.

The hunter whimpered. Actually whimpered as the stabbing pain morphed into a relentless burn that made him feel as if his veins and arteries were on hot liquid fire. He cried out and tried to pull his arms against his chest. But the demon held him tighter, pinning him down.

„Scr-rew y-you!", Sam cried out as another wave of burning pain washed through him.

Did he hurt him? Had he broken something in the hunter's body? Holy shit … no. He needed the guy some more …

„God ...", the hunter whined. This felt worse than dying._ Holy shit. _Worse than everything he ever had to endure.

That was when the demon realized … _it had worked._ The spell had worked … He eased his grip from the hunter's wrists and rolled off of him slowly. In an instant, the man lay curled up on his side, wrapping his incredibly long arms around his stomach.

„What've you done?", Sam panted in between gasps. „What the hell … Oh god ..." Tears shot into the hunter's eyes as the burn spread further through his body. His hurting gut and left yaw didn't feel that bad anymore, nor did the throbbing pain in his skull.

Dean tilted his head to the side and watched Sam as if the hunter was an insect under the microscope. He circled the man once. Twice.

„Looks like it worked." Somehow satisfied, Dean sniffed and laid his head to the other side as if it would change something at the sight before him. He didn't even wasted a thought about helping the hunter to his feet and get him settled in a bed. Sam wouldn't be in the way anyway where he laid … People who kick him didn't deserve any better.

„You know you're going to clean up the mess, when you're done here, right?"

Sam grunted and squeezed his eyes shut. Beats of sweat formed on the man's forehead, as he tried to fight the pain and burning sensation.

By act of grace, he passed out soon after …

… when he woke up again, everything around him was soft and cosy. He was back in the giant bed, tugged under a blanket on top of the comforter. He groaned when he opened his eyes and the bright light of the day was nearly blinding him. Sam looked around the room curiously.

Though it was just him … no one else was there.

He felt bandages around his wrists and while his left one came up unbound, his right one was cuffed to the bed AGAIN. _Good job, Winchester. _

He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut. He was so done. And his chest hurt _again_ …

„See you're awake.", came a voice from the other side of the room. The voice was quite and somehow the owner of it sounded worried … or sorry … or _something_.

Sam turned his head to the left side, where he spotted Dean Winchester sitting in the corner on a chair, staring at him.

„Gotta admin you're a sneaky bastard, hunter.", Dean continued calmly.

„I've to admit you've a great hook.", Sam countered hoarsely.

Then there was silence for a few heartbeats.

„What about your jaw, Sammy?", the demon asked then, watching the hunter closely.

„What about your junk, Dean-o?", Sam countered cockily.

Dean chuckled amused and shook his head. He wouldn't tell the man that he had a pack of frozen peas in between his legs the whole night.

„What if I've managed to cross the threshold?", Sam asked seriously.

„You'd drop dead. - Remember: the spell I put on you.", Dean answered honestly.

Sam nodded to himself, then glanced at the cuffs. He rose his cuffed hand a bit. „What about those? Thought we're past that?"

Dean looked at him amused. „You look way better in cuffs than without." He pursed his lips in that cocky way. „The spell worked. Now we have to wait for the next new moon. Then I'll take the spell off of you which binds you to the cabin and you're a free happy hunter again."

„I'm going to hunt you down, you know that, right?" Sam looked away and out of the window.

„I'd expect nothing less.", Dean gave back and rose from the chair. „Water and painkillers are on the nightstand."

Sam didn't feel any different at all … he couldn't tell if the demon-blood was truly gone … though, the demon didn't seem as pissed anymore, so it must have worked.

Just his emotional outburst hadn't been that good of an idea. He was back to be cuffed to the damn bed and not a step closer to freedom.

* * *

Dean didn't clean up the mess in the kitchen. It wasn't his job after all. Though, walking around the spilled jars and shit on the floor, wasn't that easy after all. It'd be fun to watch the hunter clean up that shit …

The demon went for the bucket under the kitchen-sink and filled it with hot water. He then poured some dishwashing liquid into it and put a broken broom without stick in it. Then Dean went into the bedroom again.

„Up you go.", he said and opened the hunter's cuffs, who still laid on the bed and watched the demon warily as he released his bindings. „There's some work in the kitchen for ya'."

Sam's eyes narrowed, as he sat up. „I'm ain't your maid, bitch.", he growled.

Dean rose an eyebrow at the hunter. „I'll be out for about an hour. When I come back I want that shit in the kitchen removed. Got me?"

Sam huffed out an annoyed breath. „Bite me.", he muttered.

„Nah, ain't wanna die because of food poisoning.", the demon gave back and tossed a rag at the younger man. „Get goin'.", he nudged Sam's leg with his boot. „You don't wanna not be done when I come back."

Sam looked up at him with a sly smirk. „You won't kill me.", he said calmly. „You can't, because you need me."

Dean's jaw moved forwards, the muscles in his neck working. The hunter was right. He needed the guy. He couldn't kill him. „But I can hurt you.", he growled, his eyes flashing obsidian.

Sam laid his head to the side and watched the demon for a couple of moments. He then pursed his lips. „I'd like to see you try."

There was no way he'd clean up the floor. NO WAY in hell.

„Don't say I haven't warned you, knucklehead." Then Dean Winchester was gone and all Sam heard was the front-door sliding into the lock and the low rumble of a car being heard.

With a deep sigh, he stared at the rag in his hands and shook his head. „Nope.", Sam muttered and tossed it on the bed beside him, before he visited the bathroom.

On his way into town, Dean thought about how to make the hunter more compliant. They'd spend a whole lot of time together in the upcoming two or three weeks. Hopefully enough time to make the Campbell willing to do the ritual.

He was also thinking about telling Sam about the ritual and what the point was in doing it. But then again, he wouldn't believe him anyway.

…_... to be continued_

* * *

_so far so good ... just ... I'm still waiting for prompts? no one wants to read something special? _

_no special scene? _

_nothing? _

_other than that: I've a request for **THIS**:_

_hurt!hermaphrodite!bottom!sam, caring!protective!(hunter)!top!dean, love!story, cross!dressing_

_sooo ... what do you guys think? that's pretty kinky, ain't it? and it's pretty much not the things i write usually, is it?  
_

_it's a challenge ... ain't it?_


	6. Chapter 6 Hunter VS Demon

_**Obsidian ~ Raise A Little Hell**_

**The Road So Far:**

_With a deep sigh, he stared at the rag in his hands and shook his head. „Nope.", Sam muttered and tossed it on the bed beside him, before he visited the bathroom._

_On his way into town, Dean thought about how to make the hunter more compliant. They'd spend a whole lot of time together in the upcoming two or three weeks. Hopefully enough time to make the Campbell willing to do the ritual._

_He was also thinking about telling Sam about the ritual and what the point was in doing it. But then again, he wouldn't believe him anyway._

* * *

_**Chapter 6 ~ Hunter VS Demon**_

No, Sam hadn't cleaned up the floor. All he had done was, to put the table back up, so he wouldn't trip over it later. What he had also done, was to draw a devil's trap on the ceiling above the door and a second one under the carpet. He had also searched through the demon's belongings and had come up with nothing.

What he had found was a rosary at the very bottom of the demon's bag, wich he had put into the bucket with water (wich was now cold). Other than that he had come up with a kitchen-knife and a frying pan. Both things not so much of a help against a demon, but maybe it'd help out to knock the guy off his heels. So he could get him tied up and over to the chair, which he had placed in the living-room-part.

His thoughts about fleeing weren't that present anymore. First he'd need to know what kind of ritual the demon wanted to do and what he needed HIM and his (now) cleansed soul and blood for.

* * *

It wasn't like Dean didn't know what was waiting for him when he'd return. The hunter had high likely drawn a devil's trap in front of the door and had found the rosary to make up some holy water. Besides that he had not a lot to fight, except a pan and maybe the giant kitchen-knife he had hidden on the upper cupboard.

He imagined the hunter's face, when he'd realize that none of it would work on him. Dena couldn't help but grin. Maybe the man wouldn't try to fight him so bad, if he'd know that there was no way of escaping him. Maybe Sam Campbell would understand then, that Dean wasn't a regular demon and that he'd be practically under his mercy until he'd let him go (well that might were the thoughts of a regular demon due to the fact that he'd TRULY would let him go) ...

Sure he didn't expect the hunter – specially not a Campbell – to give in and obey orders. Dean'd be pretty disappointed in the man if it would be that way.

Dean glanced at the shopping bags beside him on the driver's seat and thought for a moment. Shaking his head, he decided to leave them be until things with the hunter would be settled and got out of the car. Ever so casually, he went up the porch and plunged the key into the lock of the door and turned it around.

What he didn't expect was, that the door-handle got ripped out of his hand when he pushed it down and the door flew open. In a split second, his head made contact with a pretty big frying pan and he felt himself gripped and torn into the house.

Sam jumped back a few steps and waited for the demon to regain control over his mind.

Utterly annoyed, Dean shook his head and laid his hand on his jaw, moving it carefully. It wasn't even cracked, so seemed to be his skull. Though there was the tender ringing of bells somewhere in the back of his mind ...

He barely had his senses together, when Sam gripped the bucket beside him and threw the ingredients (a mixture of holy water and soap) at the demon. The hunter was waiting for him to sizzle and cry out in pain.

But non of that happened.

Flabbergasted, Sam stood there, the empty bucket in one hand and the knife in the other one. "What the hell ...", he muttered confused to himself.

"Well ...", Dean spit out a mouth full of water and blinked his eyes open. "Nice idea ..." He wiped over his short hair and freckled face. Not bothered by the devil's trap, he made a step out of it and further into the room and towards Sam.

"No way ..." Sam hadn't expected THAT. The guy was demon, right? He had black eyes ... and ... the powers?

"There's no _welcome home, honey_?", Dean walked around Sam, into the kitchen-part and opened the fridge to pull out a bottle of beer.

Sam still stood there – frozen in place.

"To be honest ... I've awaited a whole lotta more fightin'." He uncapped the beer and kicked one of the jars on the floor aside. "I mean ..." He glanced towards the chair in the living-room and the ropes that lay beside it. "... you're a Campbell – one with reputation ..."

Sam turned around to face the man, the wheels in his mind driving wildly. "What the hell are you?"

Dean walked past him into the living-room-part and sat down on the lonely chair. "Dean Winchester. Knight of freakin' hell, kiddo. That's what I am. - No trap, no holy water and FOR FUCK'S SAKE, nothing ever's going to be able kill me. You can't even exorcise me, boy. So forget about all this crap."

Sam turned around fully, his eyes wide. "You ain't no knight of hell." He didn't quite believe him. Okay, he might hadn't ever met one in person. Hell, he hadn't even known that there's such a thing like a knight of hell, but that didn't mean that this bastard could tell him tell tales.

"Watch me.", Sam hissed, fisting the hilt of the knife tighter.

The demon chuckled. "Aww, c'mon. Sure you can try ... but that's just gonna piss me off. So ... what about you put that knife down and the pan back into the cupboard and get yourself a beer." Dean thought that was at least as close to a peace offer as it could be.

"We're just sticking around each other for a couple of weeks and then we're gonna go our separate ways again. - That's all I want. Until the next new moon. Not a single day longer."

Dean watched the tall man stand there, all long limps and loosen clothes and with that blank expression on his face. Though, he had to admit to himself, that the sharp line of the hunter's jaw and slightly pink lips were kind of cute when he did this thing with the muscles in his neck. Kind of like a pouting kid or something. Really adorable if it wouldn't be so annoying.

"What's going to happen? What's the ritual for?" Nope, Samuel Campbell wouldn't shut up until he knew.

Dean sat the bottle aside. "I'll go and get the errands inside. - You clean up that mess or I'm gonna kick you into next week."

"Always with the useless threats." Sam let the bucket and the knife fall to the floor on his left and right side.

Dean rose an eyebrow. This was going to be fun. At least more fun as it had been days before when the guy had pissed himself ...

"When I'm back, you're on your bed. - Shirtless." the demon said coldly and rose. "Those stitches have to get out some day."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "Give me the tweezers and I'll do it by myself."

Dean gave the man a naughty grin. "Where'd be the fun in this if I'd let you?"

"I won't punch you in the face, douchebag.", Sam gave back coldly.

"Cute. Real cute, Sammy." The demon walked past him and out of the front-door, leaving it open.

"It's SAM!", he yelled after him.

Though he smelled a chance to burst outside and run as fast as he could ... he didn't. But next time the demon would head out, he'd try his luck so that he'd have some advantage and make it harder for the bastard to track him down.

"Whatever.", Dean winked at him on his way back inside, with both hands full of paper-bags. "Would you mind and close the door?"

Sam growled. "Fuck you."

Dean dumped the bags on the sideboard in the kitchen. "What a sassy bitch, aren't you?"

Sam glared daggers at him.

"Go get on the damn bed and your hoodie off." There was something impatient in his voice.

"No way." Sam wouldn't go there, wouldn't take orders.

"I said...", he hissed and was about to turn around. "... go into the fucking bedroom and on the bed." He didn't as much as blink at him.

"Make me." Sam snarled. "Big black wolf."

"You asked for it." Dean pulled a syringe from the back of his jeans and uncapped it. "You are right, I can't afford to kill you. I neither want to hurt you. - Sooo ... do I really have to give you a shot?"

Sam's eyes narrowed at the sharp needle.

"Either you go in there, put your shirt off and ly down, or I will sedate you and do whatever I want with your body while you're out." Dean made a step towards Sam.

Sam threw him a bitchface. A damn freaking _bitchface_. Usually the demon just saw them on women ... but this? Samuel Campbell was the absolute master of bitchfaces. _Forever and all times._

"You shouldn't underestimate me, kiddo." Dean made another step forward.

Sam still stared at the syringe in the man's hand. There were two ways: either he was compliant and did what the man wanted. Or: he'd have a fight with him and the demon would take him out in a matter of seconds.

Nope ... Sam couldn't let either of this happen.

* * *

Sam Campbell had no memory of what had happened. He just knew that he lay on the bed, without the hoodie and removed stitches. Gladly his sweats were still in place and he couldn't feel any difference on himself.

So the demon had won.

He couldn't remember the bastard coming even near him. He couldn't remember anything. He just knew, one moment he stood in the living-room and the very next he was here, on the bed, half-naked, with no stitches. And a slight throbbing sensation in his skull.

Then slowly some of the memories returned. - At least parts of it ... Dean hadn't used the sedative ... he had showed him his demonic powers. He just flunk him into the wall and took him out with a single touch to his temple ...

_Why was this guy playing with him? _

One day he punched him close into oblivion and today he put him down with a single touch? And before that he had used sedatives on him? What kind of demon was that guy?

He had treated him like shit when he had been bound to the bed and now he was kind of fraternizing with him? If you could call it fraternizing at all ...

It was just weird.

What the hell was he supposed to do until the the next time Dean Winchester would head out? Because he sure as hell wouldn't allow that bastard to order him around like that. _Not ever._

Sam found his hoodie right next to him on the bed and put it back on. He then visited the toilet and when he was done he decided to check if the bedroom was still locked down.

To his surprise it wasn't.

So he headed into the kitchen-living-room, where Dean sat on the couch with a bag of chips between his legs and stared into the TV.

"Now was that so bad?", the demon asked with his mouth full of chips.

Sam just grunted and walked past him into the kitchen. Obviously Dean had decided to clean up the mess by himself – finally. He instantly spotted the coffee maker and the full pot of black liquid.

Without bothering to ask, he went on the search of a mug, which he found in the cupboard over the sink and poured himself some of the black liquid in. There was a pack of sugar right next to the coffee-maker and some whitener.

All done, he went with the mug to the couch and sat down on the other end of it, not sparing a single glance at the demon. That was just right before he started to glare at him.

"Your momma didn't tell you that it's impolite to check people out?" Dean said, muffled by chips.

Sam threw him another bitchface. "I'm thinking about the best way of sending you back to hell."

Dean chuckled, his mouth still full of chips. He gave him a short look, saying _good luck with that_ and turned his attention back at the TV.

So they were sitting there together on the couch. A demon to the far left side and a hunter to the far right one.

Sam had been captured by demons at some points in his life and it had never ended up well for either side ... but it had never been like THIS. EVER.

And he damn well thought he could speak for the whole hunter-world.

Dean stuffed another hand full of chips into his mouth, wondering when the human beside him would snap or something ... but he didn't. There weren't suddenly hands on his throat, muttering an exorcism, or a knife in his chest soaked in holy water.

There was just him and the hunter, a mug of coffee and a bag of chips and the TV.

When Sam went to get another coffee, the demon changed the channel where Grey's Anatomy was playing. Actually he had never watched as much TV as he had during the past couple of days. Okay, he had watched TV, but it had never been series like this (because there had just been one reason to watch TV and that had been porn.).

When Sam settled back on the couch, there was a doctor series playing and he sighed annoyed.

What didn't go past the demon. So Dean skipped another couple of channels further (okay, three to be correct since there wasn't that much of reception out here). They ended up with _Buffy – The Vampire Slayer. _

Now Sam looked definitely shocked. "Dude ...", he muttered.

"What? ... she's HOT." Dean glared at the hunter beside him.

"She's a minor, you idiot." Sam gave back with a huff.

"Demon.", Dean pointed at himself with his left pointing-finger and stared at Sam in a goofy way that made the hunter smirk.

Sam caught himself by not feeling threatened at all by the black-eyed monster a few feet away from him. He caught himself feeling easing up ... something _lethal_ in his position. The hunter felt weirdly comfortable and wasn't bothered anyhow by the fact that the man beside him was a demon. Okay, now that he thought about it, it bothered him – but not exactly in the way it should.

He caught himself watching TV instead of having a watchful eye on Dean Winchester beside him. Again something definite lethal in his position.

Dean chuckled when Spike appeared with his long black leather-coat and his peroxide-blonde spiked hair. He felt a bit weird about the fact, that his captive was sitting right next to him. Without cuffs or bindings or at least one of those demonic collars his kind used to use on their pets. Even weirder felt, that he didn't feel threatened or annoyed by the guy at all – at least not at the moment. It was a bit like the way he had been used to watch TV with his dad.

_As things turned out, there was a Buffy-Marathon on TV ... _

Sam could wrap his mind around it, that he had loved these series when he had been younger. He and his momma had watched the vampire slaying girl together whenever they weren't on a hunt, or just taking some time off for one or two weeks after one of the both of them had gotten injured.

Actually it had been a pretty good time past then ... until something pretty unnatural tore his small family apart. First Ellen had thought she could hide her sickness from her son. But as the hunter she had raised him, he found out pretty soon.

Mom had always said that she'd like someone like Willow for him to be his girlfriend. Oddly enough, since she was a witch – something they usually hunted. Okay, not every witch was a bad girl. Though most of them were ...

Just when his mom realized, that Sam (he wasn't older than fifteen) had been more into the _Angel_-type instead of Willow, she had stopped to tease him about the petite redhead at all. Ellen had never left a word about it ... instead she tried to get him in contact with other male hunter (and that very unobvious).

"Hey!", Dean called out and nudged Sam's knee with his boot.

Sam snapped out of his memories and wiped his gaze towards Dean, who eyed him suspiciously, holding the bag of chips towards him. He first stared at the demon for a long time and then at the chips just to look back up a moment later.

"Asked you if you wanna have some too before the bag is due?" Big green sparkling – close to innocent looking – eyes stared at him.

Sam shook his head. "Thanks.", he muttered hoarsely.

The demon shrugged and pulled his hand with the chips back. "I would've shared."

The hunter looked back at the TV. And there was Angel, in all his magnificence. Sam knew WHY he have had the hots for this vamp. Man was the guy well built. Though he had prefered _Booth_ in _Bones_ a bit more ...

The Buffy-Marathon carried on ... so did the late afternoon. Slowly but surely, Sam's eyelids were getting heavy and he started to drift off into a light slumber.

Dean didn't notice it, until he heard the soft snores from the human beside him and he looked over at the giant. Somehow, Sam Campbell looked utterly peaceful and young with his slightly flushed cheeks and barely parted lips.

The demon watched the human for a long time, the hot vampire slayer completely forgotten. It took him quite some time to tear his gaze away from the male hunter and focus back on the TV. What was actually more difficult than he had thought.

For a moment he thought about carrying the man into the bedroom where he'd lie more comfortable. Though the thought got shoved aside. If he would be uncomfortable he'd go sleep in the bed by himself anyway.

After a while, and the intro of the next Buffy-Episode, Dean's gaze caught again at the human. Maybe Sam would be cold and need a blanket later on ... Though the thought didn't exist for very long and he left him be like he was ...

* * *

The days carried on like that. Neither of them was talking a lot to the other one, except it was for teasing and bickering and insulting each other. Sam didn't trust the demon and vice versa, they didn't even tried to hide it.

Sam moved freely through the house and the one time he had tried to step onto the porch, he had instantly felt a tearing sensation in his heart, as if someone was squeezing it. So he had gotten back inside ...

It was one week to go until the new moon and Dean hadn't went out into town again since Sam had tried to capture him in a devil's trap. They were running out of errands and food and somehow it looked as if Dean didn't want to head out at all ... as if he was sensing what Sam had planned.

The hunter knew – since he had tried to get outside once – that there truly had to be a spell which bound him to this place ... but he needed to try it. He needed to get out of there before the new moon would be there and he'd have to do a ritual, where god knew what would happen ...

He took the chance. Maybe his only chance.

Finally, Dean told him that he'd head into town to stuck up on food and toilet paper. Sam hid his excitement like a hollywood-actor and ignored him like he mostly did.

Though Dean Winchester seemed to hesitate to leave the house and Sam wondered if he had acted different.

_He hadn't. _

Sam waited for the demon to leave and for the familiar roar of the Impala. Then he waited fifteen more minutes so he could be halfway sure that Dean wouldn't come back because he had forgotten something.

"Lets go ...", Sam muttered and headed for the demon's duffel, that had its place under the small board beside the door. Since he didn't own anything right now, he went for the man's socks (which of course were way too small, but he took them anyway). He pulled two over another on his feet.

Sam stood for good five minutes in front of the door, trying to get himself clear about what he was doing there and if it was truly a good idea. After all, the demon hadn't been that bad ... had he?

_Nice greetings from the Stockholm-Syndrome anyway. _

The hunter finally managed to grip the door-handle and pushed it down to open it. He then took a hesitant step outside, and instantly felt the slight pressure in his chest and his ribcage tightened.

He took another deep breath to brace himself and then took off in a sprint into the woods.

* * *

Dean have had an uneasy feeling in his guts ever since he had driven away from the cabin. The uneasy feeling became gut-wrenching as he walked along the isles in the mini mart and his thoughts flickered towards the cabin and Sam every couple of minutes.

He had planned to go into some shops to get the human another set of clothes ... but he decided to leave it be and just get the damn food and head back to the cabin.

Sure, the hunter had seemed "normal". _Normal_ under those circumstances ... But then again, he was a hunter after all ... Might as well he had planned something AGAIN. Though he wouldn't be so stupid to try to flee through the woods. Specially where he had warned him not to do just _that_ ...

Bad things crawled their way into Dean's mind and he floored the gas-pedal. If that damn bastard was going to kill himself, he needed to find another one of Azazel's children and start from the very beginning ... What meant he needed more time. Time that he didn't have – didn't want to waste.

_... to be continued_

* * *

**READY FOR SOME ACTION? :) **

**lets see what the next chapter's goin' to come up with, huh?**


	7. Chapter 7 Between Poison And Death

_**Obsidian ~ Raise A Little Hell**_

**The Road So Far:**

_Dean have had an uneasy feeling in his guts ever since he had driven away from the cabin. The uneasy feeling became gut-wrenching as he walked along the isles in the mini mart and his thoughts flickered towards the cabin and Sam every couple of minutes._

_He had planned to go into some shops to get the human another set of clothes ... but he decided to leave it be and just get the damn food and head back to the cabin._

_Sure, the hunter had seemed "normal". ____Normal__ under those circumstances ... But then again, he was a hunter after all ... Might as well he had planned something AGAIN. Though he wouldn't be so stupid to try to flee through the woods. Specially where he had warned him not to do just ____that__ ..._

_Bad things crawled their way into Dean's mind and he floored the gas-pedal. If that damn bastard was going to kill himself, he needed to find another one of Azazel's children and start from the very beginning ... What meant he needed more time. Time that he didn't have – didn't want to waste._

* * *

_**Chapter 7 ~ Between Poison And Death**_

Dean Winchester brought his black beauty to a hold in front of the lone house in the woods he recently called his home. The Impala's tires screeched at the sudden rough use of the pedal.

The car's engine hadn't even died yet, when Dean was already out of the car and on his way up the stairs and onto the porch.

The demon needed a whole lot of self-control to not wrench the front-door open brutally,

since he didn't want to sound or act _worried_ … or _terrified. _Dean didn't call for the hunter, nor did he run through the small house like the freaking out man he was right now. Instead he moved with predator-like precision through the three lonely rooms of the cabin.

Sam Campbell was _gone_ …

„Damn it.", he hissed angrily. „Freakin' hunters!" And with that he was out of the house, down the porch and following a trail of cracked branches and stomped on grass. NOW it was time to freak out – not that he was actually worried (no way). The only thing he was worried about was himself (at least he was telling this himself).

He haven't had to go far – and he knew it. It was just a couple of hundreds of yards into the woods …

The spell had a death-point of about a mile. Though the spell wouldn't allow someone to even come close to this border of definite death. It was more of a way to stop someone and putting him out cold before he'd reach that point anyway.

Dean Winchester wasn't a murderer (he always tried not to be, but sometimes he just couldn't help himself).

Dean kneeled down beside the male human on the ground and put his fingers on the man's neck to feel for his pulse. As awaited, he hadn't even come near the spell's border– though the hunter had managed to come pretty close to it.

„I'm so gonna cuff you to that damn freakin' bed again, idiot.", Dean grumbled as he rolled the tall man on his back, spotting instantly the trail of blood from Sam's nostrils down over his tender-looking lips and chin.

He sure wasn't someone who gave up easily.

There was no response, nor a wink. The hunter was out cold … _stupid son of a bitch._ Dean should've known that he wouldn't accept his captivity that easy. It had just looked too good to be true. On the other hand: NOW the hunter knew that he wouldn't get far and what price he had to pay for his disobedience.

* * *

Carrying the damn man back to the cabin hadn't been that easy on Dean as it probably should. Sure he was a demon and damn strong … but carrying that guy through that part of the woods hadn't been fun at all. The hunter was heavy and lanky, with damn freaking tentacle-arms and legs.

Eventually they came back to the cabin. Dean Winchester dumped the hunter on the bed. Pissed as he was, he stomped out of the room without checking on him. It served him right. He had warned him, hadn't he?

_BUT NO _… Sam Campbell had to try his luck like a fucking kid that was forbidden to go for the damn cookies!

Dean slammed the door shut as he emerged from the bedroom and then when he stepped outside on the porch, he pulled the front-door close with no lesser force.

When he got closer to the car, the paper-bags got into his line of vision and he cursed again. Angrily he yanked the passenger's door open and got the bags, which he carried into the kitchen and dumped them there, just to head back out again – without _useless_ freight.

He needed a bar and a bottle of whiskey. He needed angry sex with some blonde or brunette with giant boobs somewhere in a dark alley …

* * *

He hadn't have sex with a blonde or brunette with giant boobs. He have had angry rough sex with a twenty-four year old, tall boy with shaggy brown hair and big brown eyes – after they had emptied about a whole bottle of whiskey.

Dean didn't even think about the similarities in between this man (what was his name? Stan? Sonny? Sean?) and the hunter.

After their intermezzo behind the bar, they went back inside, emptied half another bottle of booze together and because Dean Winchester wasn't an ass at all, he dropped the drunken guy at his appartement in the middle of town, before he headed back to the cabin.

It was some time around three a.m. when he closed the front-door of the small house behind him and switched on the light. The fire in the fire-place had died already and it was chilly in the house. Though he couldn't be bothered to mind.

Dean gathered his last unused shirt from his duffel and his last jeans and boxers. He then headed into the bathroom. While he passed the bed, he grazed the hunter with a short glance – who was still in the same position he had laid him down earlier

After a hot shower and getting into fresh clothes, Dean checked on the hunter's pulse. It was fast, but regular. His breaths were a bit labored, but other than that okay.

The demon then headed into the kitchen, got a bottle of water and headed back into the bedroom.

„Hey!", he called out, while he approached the bed. „Campbell!"

There wasn't more than a groan. „Knucklehead! Wake up." It was definitely an order and not a plea.

Again a low groan instead of spoken words.

Annoyed, the demon dumped the bottle on Sam's stomach, who instantly opened his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. And oh god, how bad he wished he wouldn't have woken up. His head and chest were killing him. What the hell had ridden him to go on after he had proofed to himself that there truly was a spell that bound him to that damn place …

„You need to drink.", Dean said matter-of-factly. His eyes were of a cold green and the lines of his lines hard. There wasn't even a spark of kindness in them.

Sam sat up awkwardly and reached up to his head, drawing his fingers through his long hair.

„What was that shit even about? - I figured we had a deal?", the demon asked, his words sounded annoyed and pissed at the same time.

„_You_ had a deal. - I didn't have a say in that.", Sam muttered. „So I try whatever I can to get away, before you're doing a ritual that could possibly harm innocents."

Dean Winchester huffed out a breath and shook his head in disbelieve. „Just one week, man. ONE damn week and you're outa here. - Might as well do yourself a favor and don't try any shit again."

„Can't promise anything, daddy.", Sam muttered absently, before he sat up and slid with his long legs out of the bed.

* * *

_Three days down, four to go … _

There was no way in hell, Sam'd let the demon do the ritual – no matter under what costs. The past couple of days he had tried to stab, exorcise and overpower the demon.

But he had always failed. Without his demon-killing-knife and a book about knights of hell he was definitely screwed. Screwed, like literally screwed. He had no idea how to get the situation under control, nor how to deal with all that shit.

Even when the demon would truly let him go … what was he supposed to do then? The ritual would've been done by then …

Somehow the demon must've known about Sam's intentions, because when the hunter tried to look for pills, the knife or event he ropes, he didn't find anything. Dean Winchester had hidden all these things from him, so he wouldn't try to attempt suicide.

Dean knew the hunter would try everything to stop him. He had thought about telling the man about his intentions and the ritual. But then again … why should he believe him? He'd think was a liar like all the other demons. He'd get even more suspicious and wouldn't want to make the ritual even more.

Dean had Sam cuffed to a hook he had anchored beside the couch in the wooden floor with a long chain, which allowed the man to change his position a bit while he watched TV or something. There was another hook beside the kitchen-table, and one beside the bed now.

The demon didn't take any chances on Sam to get lucky and get the drop on him or take himself out. Not now, where the new moon was just four days away …

He wasn't stupid. At least not THAT stupid. _Why would the human not see that he'd be out of here in less than a week? _

* * *

Maybe Sam hadn't that much of a say in what was going to happen … he finally had to admit that to himself, hadn't he?

Maybe he had to see, that there was no way to keep the demon from doing the ritual. But he sure as hell would try everything to reverse it afterwards … IF he was going to survive …

He was wondering why the demon hadn't just cuffed him somewhere in the house, got him three meals a day and waited for the new moon. _Nope_. Instead the monster seemed to try to make it comfortable for him – at least somehow. Dean had gotten him a pair of jeans, a new hoodie and three boxers. There were now shoes and socks too.

How the hell did the demon even get his size right? … And why the hell did he feel bad about trying to get away and screw up the ritual, when the demon didn't even TRY to hurt him in any way possible?

Sam hadn't even said _thank you_ … for the things.

And he didn't have to, had he? The guy held him imprisoned to do a got-knew-what-ritual in about four days … There had to be a hitch in this whole thing … There was no way the demon did it because of the bottom of his heart.

Now he sat here, on the other end of the couch, staring at the screen … watching _Bones_ … While the demon was admiring doctor _Temperance Brennan_, Sam checked out _Agent Seeley Booth_.

His trip through the woods three days ago had drained him … as if the spell had sucked all energy from his system. Sam still felt tired and exhausted and prefered to sleep (except when he tried to get a drop on the demon). Now that he was cuffed to the hooks everywhere they were, he had time to sleep.

Dean stole a glance at the human hunter, who sat curled up at the couch, his head resting on the backrest of it and his eyes were mere slits through which a slim line of hazel was visible.

He had never noticed before, how vulnerable the man could look like. Dressed in those loosen clothes, with flushed cheeks and half asleep … Something inside the demon called to him. To get a taste about how this skin would feel like under his finger-tips … How Sam Campbell would have reacted to him if he'd been human and if they'd met under normal circumstances.

He stole another glance at the hunter, his green eyes narrowing. Somehow he felt sorry about holding the man captured … but it was for everyone's good, wasn't it?

* * *

Later that evening and while Sam slept, the Demon busied himself in the kitchen. For once they shouldn't eat any shit out of cans. He had bought noodles and chopped tomatoes (okay, they were in cans), to get a Pasta Bolognese done.

Half through roasting the meat, he noticed, that he had none of the herbs he'd need. Only salt and pepper and something that was called lemongrass …

Though in the end it didn't taste THAT bad and it was something different as soup … and peaches.

Dean went over to the couch and released the cuffs from the hook. He then tugged on the chain to wake the hunter up.

Sam's eyes blinked open at the tug on his wrist.

„Dinner's ready, Sammy.", Dean said with a wide grin. He knew how much the hunter hated it to be called like that …

„Don't smell anything burnt … you sure you're done, Dean-o?", the hunter gave back groggily and let his head roll back to face the demon. His gaze got immediately caught in the man's deep green sparkling eyes.

Dean tore his gaze away from the hunter and tugged on the chain again. „You hungry or not?", he asked grumpily, his grin fading.

Sam groaned and sat up on the couch. He then looked towards the table where he saw two plates with something red and steaming on them … and if he wasn't completely wrong it smelled like pasta …

The Campbell followed the demon towards the table and sat down on the chair beside which the hook was.

Dean locked the cuffs again and then took his seat opposite of the hunter.

Sam eyed his own plate first and then the demon's. Dean had chopped the spaghettis on Sam's plate and there was a spoon. Dean's noodles on the other hand were whole and he didn't just have a spoon, he also had a fork …

Sam grumbled something. He took the spoon and started to mix the red meat-sauce with the noodles.

Dean eyed him curiously, while he twisted his fork in the noodles. „Dude. - Don't poke around in it … It's FOOD and already dead."

Sam glanced up through his long bangs and scooped up a spoon full. „Wasn't entirely sure about that ...", he gave back. „Where did you get the meat from?"

A sly grin formed on the demon's face as he stuffed the first fork full of noodles into his mouth. „Was hunting.", he answered with his mouth full of noodles.

„WHAT were you hunting?", Sam asked curiously and eyed the noodles and tiny bits of meat in the tomato-sauce.

Dean's eyes narrowed. „Found no rabbit, so I got us two snakes ..." He eyed the hunter warily, awaiting the plate flying towards him the very next moment.

Against the demon's awaiting, Sam just shrugged and put the spoon in his mouth. Okay … it didn't really taste any different from what he had awaited. At least not because of the meat anyway. He have had worse than _snake_ …

Dean shrugged then too and concentrated back on his own plate.

When they were done, their plates were scraped clean and their glasses with orange juice were empty. Sam leaned back in the chair and laid his hand on his full belly, rubbing over it in content. That was definitely the best meal the demon had been capable of cooking since … well, ever since he tried himself as cook. At least Sam figured.

„Wasn't that bad ...", Sam admitted silently.

Rather surprised, Dean cocked both eyebrows. „Not THAT BAD? Man, it was fantastic. Amazing. Awesome."

„In your dreams, douchebag.", Sam gave back. „It ain't that bad because I hadn't have something warm in my stomach that didn't taste like shit ever since you kidnapped me from the hospital."

Dean chuckled. „Yeah? Is that so? You'd be dead if I wouldn't have kidnapped you from the damn hospital, hunter." He obviously was offended. „I saved your sorry ass back there!"

Sam looked down, his features changing drastically in a way Dean hadn't seen on the man before … it made him feel … _sorry_?

„I didn't ask you to save me.", Sam muttered barely hearable. There was something honest and utterly sad in his voice, what the demon couldn't place just then.

Dean Winchester frowned as he grabbed their plates and headed towards the sink. It nearly sounded as if … „Were you counting on not surviving this?"

Sam didn't look up, nor gave an answer right away. „None of your business.", he muttered after a very long while.

The hunter hadn't been counting on surviving his injuries … and though he had sought help in a hospital … humans were definitely weird and hard to understand.

„Bathroom?", Sam asked out loud, when the demon put the glass aside.

The Winchester gave him a sharp nod. „Sure."

He walked over to the hunter, who still couldn't meet his gaze and bowed down, uncuffing him from the hook. Sam waited for the man to rise and go with him (as it had been since the new cuffs had come up). But Dean didn't move. He just stood there and stared at the hunter confused.

„What're you waitin' for?"

Sam rose and shuffled towards the bedroom. „Good night …?"

Dean followed the man with his gaze until he disappeared behind the door and sighed heavily. Maybe there was a lot more about the hunter than just a handsome body and amazingly shining hazel-eyes …

* * *

Sam didn't try anything until the day of the ritual. It kind of seemed as if he was resigning to whatever would come. He accepted to be cuffed to wherever he sat. He didn't try anything to open the cuffs, or leave the cabin. The hunter didn't even try to overpower the demon in any way anymore …

All in all, it felt pretty comfortable as it was at the moment.

It was the day of the new moon, when Sam woke and was unbound. No cuffs. Not even a single one on either his wrists or ankles …

He could try to come up with some PLAN … but he didn't want to. Tonight would be the ritual and he'd do it for the demon's sake. Then it'd be over … Not that it had been THAT bad with the demon anyways. Actually – besides their bickering which was kind of amusing at times – it wasn't what he had thought it would be.

There had been no blood, no pain … no torture … (except at the beginning and the frist try of Sam to screw things up).

If the man would kill him it'd be okay … if not … well … then he high likely would get a chance to set things right.

Sam lay in bed for a long time this morning, before he went into the bathroom to take his – high likely – last shower. When he got out of the stall, he snatched two of the big towels from the recliner and wrapped one of them around his waist before he dried his hair off.

When he came out – in just the towel around his waist – there was the demon, standing in the door of the bedroom. He leaned in the door frame, his arms crossed in front of his chest, his bow legs casually lingering over another. He wore a serious expression on his face as he took in the half-naked hunter from tip to toe.

Sam stopped in his tracks and frowned at the man with rosen eyebrows, awaiting him to say something. But he didn't. Dean stood just there and took him in, as if he was thinking about eating him … or at least taking a bite …

„Like what you see?", Sam asked with a challenging glint in his eyes.

A range of emotions crossed the demon's face, before his lips curled up in a cocky way. „Sure. - We'd still have time for a lill' sex-session ...", he gave back slyly. „_Sammy_."

Sam huffed out a laugh and threw his head back. Dean couldn't do anything else but look at him.

„Dream on." The hunter paused, gaining his composure back, „And it's SAM for fuck's sake." He glared at the man.

„Well … at the moment you're lookin' more like a Sammy to me, kiddo." The demon's lips curled further up and morphed into a grin.

„Fuck you too." Sam glared a bit more, before he turned towards the bed.

„I'd like to. - It's you who doesn't want to."

„Bite me.", The hunter hissed annoyed. Sam felt heat crawl up his face.

„If you want me to ...", Dean offered, amused that the hunter was so easy to tease.

„Shut up."

„You started it – now I can't stop.", Dean bit down on his lower lip, watching the muscles in Sam's back flex under tanned skin, as he reached for his hoodie on the bed.

„Would you just ..." Sam pulled it on and turned half around. „... give me some privacy for fuck's sake?"

Dean tilted his head to the side as if he was considering it and pursed his lips. „Nah – the view's pretty good from here … besides, I've seen your ass already and I gotta say:-"

Sam glared at him again. „Shut up!"

With a low chuckle, the demon turned around. „Fine … I'm backing off ..." He made an attempt to leave the room but stopped again. „Ya know? .. We could have some real angry hunter-demon sex when the ritual's done ..."

„Not ever.", Sam huffed out, as he worked on it to get into his boxers without dropping the towel.

Dean glanced back over his shoulder and snapped with his fingers. And the towel slid to the ground, revealing two globes of firm muscles and strong thighs.

Sam yelped and hurried up to get the boxers up the rest of his lean body.

There was the light sound of chuckling and footfalls that disappeared from the bedroom immediately after.

„You ASS!", Sam yelled furiously after him.

* * *

While Dean had breakfast, Sam stayed in the room. When lunch was ready and the demon called for him, Sam wasn't hungry.

The hunter also skipped lunch and coffee … He didn't even come out to watch some TV …

Sure, Dean had checked on him, so that he wouldn't have a chance to do something stupid, that could possibly screw up his plan.

Sam had been lying on the bed all damn day, sulking and obviously aware of the upcoming new moon …

Dean felt himself tempted to tell the hunter. But if he'd tell him now and when the ritual would be done, he wasn'T sure if Sam Campbell wouldn't still want to kill him. And Dean Winchester in his human form was way more vulnerable than Dean Winchester as a demon.

So he planned on sticking to his plan.

The hunter would have to get into town, call one of his hunter-friends and just then he'd come back here. What would buy Dean a couple of hours and distance between himself and Samuel Campbell.

They'd never see each other again after this ritual.

A fact, which made the demon a bit sad. Somehow the sasquatch had grown on him … or maybe he was just overreacting and he had gotten used to have someone around …

Either way. Tonight was the night and after that everything would change.

* * *

The night had broken over the land, when Dean Winchester threw another couple of logs into the fire. He had shoved the couch, the coffee table and the chairs aside to have enough space on the wooden floor. The demon had drawn a sigil with white chalk on the dark wood. It had the shape of the Jing Jang symbol. The both dots were bigger and were sigils on their own. One of them symbolising the darkness within the light and the other one the light within the darkness.

There was the same brassbowl they had used for the cleaning-ritual, filled with other herbs.

Dean hesitated for a moment before he knocked on the bedroom's door and entered uninvited. He lurked inside – more hesitantly than anything else and looked around the dark room. Instantly his gaze got glued to the figure on the bed.

„It's time, hunter.", he said calmly.

The form on the bed shifted and moved.

„We better get goin'.", he added.

Now the figure rose and walked towards him. A pair desperate looking hazel-eyes met his emerald-green ones. Sam looked nervous and anxious and more like a regular civilian than the hunter he was.

Dean led him towards the sigil on the floor and pointed at the dot on the other side of the circle. With his other hand he pulled out a piece of paper and thrusted it into the hunter's hand.

„Yours.", he said.

Sam looked at the man. The demon sounded at least as nervous as he himself about this. Maybe he didn't want to do this … „We don't have to do this, Dean.", Sam spoke up assuring.

Dean huffed out a nervous breath. „I've been waiting for this night longer than you can think, hunter. I won't stop NOW." With that he gave him a careful shove towards the dot that was meant for the hunter. „And now sit down."

Sam sighed heavily and did as he was told.

Dean took his place on the other side in the circle, sitting down in the other spot and pulled another sheet of paper out of his pocket.

Now the brass bowl was in between the both of them. They sat opposite of each other.

Sam eyed the spell on his sheet curiously, while Dean laid a dagger to his left and his zippo to his right on the wooden floor.

„How's it gonna work?", Sam's voice broke. He sounded raw and nervous, his hands shook.

„Easy and fast.", Dean answered, keeping his cool facade up. „We say our spells together. When this is done, we're going to cut each other, smear the blood on the paper and put it in the bowl. Then I will burn the ingredients and it's done."

Sam eyed the man curiously. „How will you know if it worked?"

Dean shrugged. „I guess we'll see."

„What if it doesn't work?", Sam kept on asking.

Dean glared at him as if he had said something real bad. „Then it's your fault and I'm gonna bury you behind the house and leave you to be eaten up by worms, hunter.", he answered clinically, as if there wasn't any other option.

Sam drew his lower lip up over his upper one and thought for a moment.

„No matter if it works or not ...", Dean started then, „you're allowed to go when we're done."

Sam's eyes narrowed. „You're going to pick someone else like me, won't you?"

The demon shrugged again. „High likely."

„I won't let you.", the hunter said in a warning tone.

Dean chuckled. „Cute." He huffed out a breath. „It wasn't that bad with me, was it?"

„You damn nearly broke my jaw, asshole!", Sam blurted out.

„And you DAMN NEARLY broke my junk, bigfoot!", Dean shouted angrily. His eyes flashed black in the very moment, as his features changed into something damn well lethal. As fast as it had come it was over again and he cleared his throat. „Lets just get over with it and go separate ways."  
Sam gave him a short, surprised nod. „Fine." Actually he had thought the guy was ripping his lungs out at the very moment.

„Fine."

The both of them said their latin spells together. Sam's eyes narrowed and his eyebrows furrowed more and more the further he read the words out loud.

This wasn't like any spell he had ever seen. While he didn't quite understand the demon's mumbled words, he couldn't tell what HIS part was about. Just that he would give something to the darkest of souls willingly …

Dean cut his palm first and then did Sam – with the same dagger. They smeared their blood on the papers and laid them into the bowl.

The demon then sat the ingredients on fire.

Both were waiting and staring into the bluish flames, as the herbs and papers flared up into ashes.

For a moment happened nothing. But then, there was a small pulsating blue-white light raising slowly from the ashes of the bowl.

Dean smiled. A honest to god smile. His eyes were bright, like those of a child in front of the christmas tree. For the first time he felt something like warmth and hope and LIFE deep inside him.

Sam stared at the glowing thing curiously and then he tore his gaze towards the demon. His frown deepened, when he saw the child-like expression on his face …

This didn't seem like something earth shattering dangerous … not at all …

Suddenly the blue gleaming ball burst like a rainbow bubble … and Dean Winchesters face fell. The spark in his eyes vanished in the very second and if Sam Campbell wasn't completely mistaken, there were tears shining in the demon's eyes.

For a moment neither of them was able to say a single word.

Sam opened his mouth to ask what this was … but shut it again, as he watched Dean wipe over his face and then his eyes to cover the evidence of honest tears on his face.

„You can go ...", Dean muttered devastated. „You're off the hook, hunter ..."

Sam frowned. His look darted from the bowl to Dean and back at the bowl, just to return to Dean.

„You … honestly?" The hunter didn't know what to think, nor what to say. He actually had awaited that the demon would put him down as soon as the ritual was over. No matter about the outcome … „But ..."

„It didn't work, Sam." Dean didn't look up. He just kneeled there, his shoulders slumped and his head bowed forward. „It's over."

The hunter swallowed thickly. For a long moment he was tempted to stay and get to the bottom of this. A part of him wanted to know how it was possible, that a demon – a freaking demon – could act that emotional …

He wanted to ask Dean Winchester if he was _okay_ … if he needed something. But he cursed at himself, when he reminded himself that this man was a demon. A freaking demon with blood on his hands (at least he thought so).

Sam couldn't tell why his hands were shaking and his knees buckling, as he rose from the floor. He looked at the front-door and back at the hunter … „I … it's just … the spell?"

Dean stole a glance at the younger man and nodded. He looked lost. The demon looked lost and shattered to the core. An expression, Sam had just seen on the faces of victims so far …

The demon cleared his throat. „Yeah well … about that ...", he started. The man sounded broken and all his cockiness gone all of a sudden. It was as if Sam could see streight into his soul … into his heart … and it was so much more human-like as he could've ever imagined.

He felt _sorry_ for the demon …

Suspicion rose in the hunter's guts right then. He had known that something was off about that … The demon didn't want him to leave, did he?

„The spell, Dean.", Sam said. He failed to hide his confusion.

„You mind ..." Now Dean looked up, straight into the hunter's eyes. „... It's gonna take some time with the spell … and … maybe … If it's okay … can we do this tomorrow?"

Sam was utterly confused by now. The way the man looked at him. Broken and pleading as if someone had killed his puppy. Those big green eyes, huge and … _damn it_, that guy looked straight out vulnerable. Hell if he wanted he surely could tie the guy down right there and he wouldn't even be bothered …

„Okay ...", Sam swallowed again and made a step back. This was beyond weird. The air felt palpable with the demon's emotions. All thick and heavy and as if someone had just died. „... you promise?"

It wasn't like he truly trusted a demon on his word. Neither did he expect the man to answer honestly. Though he needed some kind of reasurance that he was a free man …

„Promise." Dean looked back down into his lap. His hands wringing. „I'm gonna take the bedroom tonight ..."

Sam just nodded. Too stunned about the recent situation to even think about of saying no. After all this was the demon's house …

* * *

It was in the middle of the night when it happened.

It had started off as a low rumble somewhere from the outside … slowly growing in intensity and noise. First off, Sam hadn't realized what was going on outside and around the cabin.

Just when the couch on which he had fallen asleep started to shake .

Before he even opened his eyes, his forehead creased. The second thing he senses was the noise … like a storm or something …

Just when curiosity overtook him, his eyes flew open.

That was about the moment, the bedroom-door flew open and a furious, black-eyed Dean Winchester appeared.

„We gotta get outa here!", Dean yelled and tossed a pair of boots towards the couch, where Sam was already sitting upright and staring out of the window.

„What the hell's that?!", he yelled towards the demon.

„Get in your boots. We gotta _run_!", was all Dean had to say, before he hurried towards the front-door and ripped it open.

…_... to be continued_

* * *

_I suppose this story is crap and I think you're right … _

_actually I'm stuck a bit … _

_call it a writer's block … or the knowing about having failed of making up a prompt-story … _

_i got 9 chapters done by now which I'm going to post ... _


	8. Chapter 8 Trust

_**Obsidian ~ Raise A Little Hell**_

**The Road So Far:**

_It was in the middle of the night when it happened._

_It had started off as a low rumble somewhere from the outside … slowly growing in intensity and noise. First off, Sam hadn't realized what was going on outside and around the cabin._

_Just when the couch on which he had fallen asleep started to shake ._

_Before he even opened his eyes, his forehead creased. The second thing he senses was the noise … like a storm or something …_

_Just when curiosity overtook him, his eyes flew open._

_That was about the moment, the bedroom-door flew open and a furious, black-eyed Dean Winchester appeared._

„_We gotta get outa here!", Dean yelled and tossed a pair of boots towards the couch, where Sam was already sitting upright and staring out of the window._

„_What the hell's that?!", he yelled towards the demon._

„_Get in your boots. We gotta ____run__!", was all Dean had to say, before he hurried towards the front-door and ripped it open._

* * *

_**Chapter 8 ~ Taking Care**_

Sam hurried up to get into his boots, while the Winchester was about to pick up his duffel in a hurry. The demon reached inside his bag and pulled a knife out, which Sam instantly recognised as _his_ own – the one with whom he had killed dozens of demons in his lifetime of a hunter.

Dean gave him a bitter glance. "Just ... don't stab me, 'kay?"

Sam looked back at him with huge eyes, gave him a short nod and rose from the couch. One more sign, that the Winchester was scared shitless – at least kind off. Would he hand him a knife that could take him out (of course just temporary) otherwise? "Why not takin' the car?"

Dean huffed out a breath and threw the knife towards Sam, who caught it gracefully with his right hand. "I've grisgris. They're gonna cover us. - Alistair's no one to play with." Dean hurried towards the door with his duffel over his shoulder. "Trust me, you don't wanna meet him in person. - And the car's like a bull in a china shop. Specially around the woods. We're gonna get back to her in a day or two."

Sam gave him a short nod again. "We could split up ...", he suggested, as made his way towards the front-door.

Dean huffed out a laugh and shook his head amused. "If you want to you can try. I'd prefer to stay with _the demon_ if I were you ... I know the area around here like my pockets." He stood there for a moment, his hand on the door-handle, eying the hunter intently. Dean saw the inner fight that was going down inside the man's head. Though they didn't have time. Not for this. _They'd_ be here any minute now and it'd be better if the both of them weren't in the cabin anymore when they did. "What's it gonna be?", asked urging the man.

Sam hissed a curse. "Fine. I'm on your heels." What other chances did he have? Fighting a bunch of demons – alone? Fighting the demon – Alistair, of whom Dean seemed truly concerned about – on his own?

Dean stuffed a tiny bag into the hunter's jeans-pocket, and earned a curious glance. "Grisgris. Gonna cover us."

"Then lets go." Dean Winchester stepped out on the porch, Sam short behind him.

There was a whirring noise and a split second later, Dean was clutching at his shoulder and crying out in pain.

There was an arrow ... a damn freaking _arrow _standing out of the demon's chest.

Alistair's favorite weapon against demons, who were mightier than him. All in all, Dean was a serious threat to him and his status in hell. Besides being a threat, the demon NEEDED the Winchester for his own plans. Plans, Dean Winchester wasn't cool with in any aspect.

Without hesitation, Dean gripped the shaft and ripped the arrow out with a strangled gasp. He took a moment to compose himself, after he had thrown the arrow aside and sharing a short glance with the younger man beside him.

Sam wasn't quite sure how to react to the injury of the demon. Was he supposed to show sympathy? Should he ask him if he'd live, or if he'd need any kind of help?

Before the hunter could get to terms, Dean pointed towards the woods on their left, not able to speak for a long moment. What wasn't required either. Sam understood what the man wanted to tell him anyway.

The both started off in a sprint, getting covered by the underwood and darkness in between trees. On their way over the open field (what weren't more than about fifty yards anyway), they tried to not get hit by the sharp blades of the arrows, which were cutting inexorably through the air.

Sam had felt the strain in his chest and the ache in his head as soon as he had stepped onto the porch and had decided to ignore the fact that there was still a spell on him. Though, the further they got away from the cabin, the worse the pain became. Sam Campbell had decided to hold on and not to lose Dean, who was still running in a damn fast pace four yards in front of him.

Damn it, the guy seemed completely unimpressed nor hurting or even slowing down, though he was wounded. An ability, the hunter wished he had too – at least in some aspects of his life.

Loosing the demon here and now would mean that he'd be lost in the woods, with a bunch of demons on his heels, who he wouldn't be able to fight on his own. _Not like this ... _

Soon, Dean Winchester was slowing down. His movements seemed heavier and as if he was moving through water ... so where Sam's. Though, he was about to pass him at the moment.

They were just walking anymore.

Dean was panting and making those tiny noises with every movement that tore on his sore wound and pumped more and more of the arrow's poison through his system. Not a poison per se. It was meant to slow him down. That stuff was a mixture of holy water and some other things Dean had no clue about.

The poison was burning in his veins and chest like fire, and though it felt as if it was freezing cold.

Dean staggered over a root and would have face-palmed the earth, if it wouldn't have been for the hunter's fast reflexes. He gripped the demon's jacket and pulled him back, slipping under his arm to stable him a bit.

"You should run.", Dean panted. "They won't find you with the grisgris-bag, hunter. At least not if you're careful enough."

Sam ignored him. There was no way he'd leave him there. Not just because of the damn spell that needed to be broken. Also because he would never leave someone who was wounded and in disadvantage on his own.

Besides the fact, that Dean even suggested to practically deliver himself to the demons, made Sam Campbell do exactly the opposite thing.

After a few yards, the hunter stopped suddenly and groaned, squeezing his eyes shut tightly.

Dean grabbed the man's shirt with his free hand and held him. "Shit ...", he muttered. They haven't had reversed the spell ... Sam wouldn't make it a lot further like that ... "Dude ... hang on. - I know a place to hole up." The demon panted, trying to concentrate on the human instead of himself. "It ain't far ..."

Sam gasped, as the straining sensation in his chest picked up. It was like all air got robbed from his lungs and as if breathing in general got heavier with every yard they left behind.

They rather looked like two zombies, miraculously glued together on their hips than human beings as they made their way further into the woods.

Dean took more and more of the hunter's weight over, ignoring his own dizziness. Soon he was dragging him more than just supporting. He cursed himself for not cutting the damn coin out of the hunter right after the ritual. Now he had some serious dead-weight to carry through the damn woods towards an abandoned mine-tunnel.

Sam was long past the stage of recognizing anything anymore, when Dean dragged him about twenty yards deep into the abandoned mine. The hunter was on his way of passing out, wouldn't it have been for the demon, who was demanding his attention every now and then and ordering him to stay awake.

Dean grunted under the weight of the human as they stumbled a few more feet deeper into the tunnel, surrounded by complete darkness. He guided the human male down slowly and laid him on the cool ground. Right beside him he dumped his duffel-bag and digged out a flashlight.

Huffing and puffing, Dean shone into the duffel and rummaged around, until he found his razor-sharp bowie-knife.

"Hang on, Sam.", Dean muttered, as he shone at the hunter's pale face.

Half-lidded eyes looked into his direction.

"I'm gonna cut you, man. - You understand?" He guided the beam of his light down at the man's hoodie. "I've put a cursed coin into your wound when I changed your bandages for the first time." He sniffed and guided the light back up at Sam's face.

The man's lips were trembling as if he wanted to say something, though no noise came out.

Dean shoved the hoodie upwards, until the man's torso was bare and took the torch in his mouth to have both of his hands free. Without further hesitation, he laid his pointing finger and thump to the left and right side of the fading scar and set the knife's tip on the middle-part of it. He then added some pressure, until it was drawing blood and cut a two inches long, and deep gash into the flesh.

The hunter didn't as much as whimper, as the demon dug with his fingers inside the wound, feeling around carefully.

"Shit.", he muttered as he wasn't able to find the piece of metal in an instant and had to dig with his fingers a bit deeper.

The man's muscles flexed under the intrusion. All he could feel was the stabbing pain in his head and the newly opened wound in which someone was digging around. He started to feel nauseous, when the demon finally found the offspring of their dilemma.

"Got it.", Dean muttered and shone at the small coin in his open, blood-covered palm to eye it for a moment. Somehow he had thought that it had been a bad idea to do this ... the classics of capturing someone would've been – probably – better after all.

Sam felt the throbbing pain in his head slowly ebbing away ... so did the feeling of having his heard squeezed out. He couldn't stop his eyes from rolling back in the sockets at this point. Everything had become blurry and surreal and fatigue got it's claws into him.

Dean skipped the coin into his duffel and pulled Sam's hoodie back down. He pointed the flashlight's beam back at Sam's face.  
The hunter's eyes were closed. There was a small trickle of blood in his left nostril.

Dean frowned.

He hadn't thought that Alistair would be that mad about stealing the black bone from him, which he had used for the spell. Well, it high likely hadn't been just that. It _surely_ hadn't been just that. Dean had known about Azazel's plans for him. He had known in what he had wanted to turn him when he was younger. Then Dean had gotten away and Azazel had vanished without a trace.

And then there had been this demon called _Alistair_. This bastard had been on his heels ever since.

Dean hadn't known what Alistair had wanted from him until a few months ago, and when he thought about it, he wished he hadn't learned about it anyway.

So he had decided to show the demon that he wasn't that easy to get to. He had decided to take something from him when he was around ... a_ black bone_. The one the demon wanted to use on HIM. That had also been the time when he decided to screw up the demon's plans big time and get himself a clean soul.

Okay ... he had to say that black bones were pretty rare and that he surely – nonetheless - could've gotten one on the black market or from a witch. But he wanted the one Alistair owned. Just because.

Now the damn bastard had found him and sure as hell wouldn't give up before he was dead and got what he wanted from Dean.

They couldn't get back to the cabin right away to get his baby. The demons would be there, waiting for them (specially Dean). Something he couldn't afford of letting happen.

Other than that they needed somewhere safe to hide for some time. HE needed to hide away for some time. And the only person he knew, who would be taking him under his roof was a grizzled mechanic ex-hunter from South Dakota, Sioux Falls. The only man he knew he could truly _trust_ ...

Okay, Robert Singer wouldn't be all fuzzy about it if he'd find out that he had captured a hunter for shady intentions. Though, he hadn't have a lot of a choice right now.

Now that the cursed coin was removed, the hunter would be doing better ... though, he had reopened the wound, no suture kit and no bandages with him.

Dean stopped himself from searching for reasons to call the old man. - He just needed someone to talk to ... and he had no one ... no one besides Bobby to do so.

Besides the need to talk to someone too ... he had brought the hunter into troubles – BIG TROUBLES. Alistair high likely knew by now that he wasn't alone. So if that bastard was aiming at him, he'd try to get a hold of Sam now too. He'd try to get out of him, what the Winchester had needed the bone for.

Dean Winchester cursed silently. At himself, at demons, at Alistair and at the damn whole world. He had never wanted this life, had never once enjoyed to be the way he was. Okay, he might had his times where he had enjoyed it, but not in the same way he enjoyed spending his time in a NORMAL way. Just like humans used to do ...

Far away from all that demon-crap and without getting dragged back into the darkness of his own soul when he wasn't even aware of it. Not just once he had beaten someone up, just because he had looked funny at him, or had said a wrong word. His temper wasn't exactly stable at all ...

Dean took the flashlight out of his mouth and shone back at the hunter's face. The human was out cold. A fine sheen of sweat glistening on his face and he was pale ... ashen to be more specifically.

Bobby would kill him if the guy wouldn't make it ...

And besides Bobby ... hell, he had spent close to four weeks with the man and somehow he had grown on him. Okay, he was a giant bitch and not exactly his best friend (not even a friend) and though he admired the hunter's wise.

He even respected him (not something that happened very often).

The demon grabbed the flashlight with his other hand and searched for the man's pulse on his neck. It was there – but barely. Dean hadn't used this kind of spell before and somehow he didn't like the way this worked. Actually, Sam should be up and around as soon as the cursed coin was removed ...

Anyway. He had other worries at the moment. Like: How to get to the car and how to call Bobby, since there was no way he'd get a signal up here.

_First things first. _

The demons were out there. He could feel them. He could FEEL Alistiar. They had to be somewhere close by, looking for him and the hunter. Though, Dean knew that they could just try their luck, since the grisgris-bags would cover them (hopefully) long enough.

Dean gripped his chest, where the arrow had hit him and took a deep steadying breath. He felt the sticky cooling fabric against his palm. At least it had stopped to bleed. High likely the wound would start to heel soon and his system would work off the poison.

The demon leaned back at the cool stone-wall against his back and closed his eyes for a moment. As long as they wouldn't come any closer to the mine, he didn't have to go out there and get them on a wrong trail.

Dean glanced at the younger man again and sighed. Sam had still the demon-knife in his right hand. Sure his grip was loose and though it looked like he was ready to tighten his grip again and yank it in some poor bastards heart.

The demon reached for his duffel and pulled it into his lap. There wasn't a lot inside. Just a shirt, jeans and boxers and a bunch of weapons and other things ... something that actually wasn't that much of a pillow. But it'd do.

Dean pulled the zipper shut and clamped the flashlight in between his teeth so that he would see what he was actually doing. He then got on on his knees and turned towards the hunter. With infinite care he lifted the younger man's head and shoved the duffel under it.

Sam's hair felt soft and cosy and just perfect. Okay, it was way too long for Dean's taste. He had always told himself that short hair was better ... at least on himself. Though ... feeling the hunter's in between his fingers and the way it wiggled around them ...

He shoved those thoughts aside and led Sam's head back down on the makeshift pillow, so that he wouldn't wake up with a stiff neck and a giant headache on top of everything else.

Dean stripped off his jacket and formed it into a bundle, so that he'd have a pillow himself. He stuffed it between his own head and the cool wall and closed his eyes again, concentrating on the presence of the demons (mainly Alistair's).

As soon as the morning would dawn, he'd have a whole lot of other shit to take care of. First off the hunter ... and then getting a signal to phone Bobby.

* * *

Despite the demon's hopes it didn't look like it would get a calm night. While the hunter was still out cold, he could feel the others roam through the woods around the hidden entrance of the mine. At some points he thought he'd have to go out there and try to lure them on a wrong track, or even try to fight them.

Though he had doubts in leaving the hunter on his own and utterly unprotected. There were a whole lot of wild animals out here that'd love to chew on the meaty parts of Sam for sure.

Time passed slow ... too slow.

Dean Winchester was wasted. The poison still did its magic and made him tired and let him feel exhausted. Exhausted enough tho drag the demon into a light slumber and soon after into a deep sleep.

Just when dawn was settling over the woods, unnoticed by the demon and the hunter, Dean Winchester's eyes snapped open. All of a sudden he was high alert and awake, his eyes wide. The pale light of the morning-sun shone through a ventilation shaft and gave a little bit of light.

Luckily there wasn't any demon-presence. Just himself and the hunter, who still seemed to be out.

He looked over at the sleeping figure and felt for his pulse. A small smile played on his lips as he felt the calm and rhythmic thumps against his fingertips before he pulled away.

"Sam.", he said silently, and nudged the man in the shoulder. "Wake up, Sammy."

The hunter groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, before they opened lazily. "'s SAM.", he groaned.

"Whatever." Dean winced, as he stood up awkwardly. He rubbed over his face and laid a hand into his neck, massaging the stiff muscles there for a few long moments. "We should get going, hunter. - Get into town and call a friend of mine to pick us up."

Sam glanced at the demon in disbelieve. "Friend? You've got friends?"

The demon gave him a glare. "What about you? Do YOU have any friends, freak?"

There was an expression of hurt crossing Sam's face and if Dean wouldn't have looked, he wouldn't have seen it. He felt guilty in an instant.

Sam cleared his throat instead of answering and sat up slowly with a groan. His chest hurt like a bitch and when he reached for it, he felt a burning pain under the hoodie.

"What the fuck ..." He rose the fabric up and saw the small, but deep gash in the spare light. There was also a thick bruise all around it. Sam looked up at the demon – pissed. "What the FUCK?"

"Be glad I didn't gut you right here, hunter." He didn't even bother to look at him. Instead he gazed towards the exit.

"Yeah – I get it. You're such a BAD boy.", Sam said gruffly and stood up awkwardly.

"'m a BAD _demon_.", Dean corrected him matter-of-factly.

"You wish." The hunter sniffed and looked around. He must've lost the knife somewhere ...

"In the duffel, douchebag." Dean didn't as much as point at his bag on the floor. "Get the bag and lets move."

Sam groaned disapproving. "'m not your maid. I already said that."

"Nope. You're not my maid. You're my bitch. - So go get the duffel and get goin'.", the Winchester countered.

"And if I'm not? Are you gonna make me?" Sam rose both eyebrows in a challenging manner.

"Dude!", Dean called out annoyed and even a bit pleading. "For once ... do as I say and stop being such an asshole."

"I'm not the asshole here. - You're the one who's callin' me names." Sam was about to reach for the duffel bag, but Dean stopped him when he reached for it himself.

"Well, I've an excuse. Do you?" Dean's and Sam's eyes locked for a long moment. Both shared stern looks, while Sam's seemed more hurt than anything else. Then the demon turned back towards the entrance and started to walk away ...

* * *

_Forty miles to go ... _and Sam was slowing down again.

It wasn't that bad without food ... but without water? Humans needed fluids to keep their blood circulating. Dean on the other hand didn't.

He really tried to not lose the human somewhere on the way. He really tried to match his pace with Sam's ... but he couldn't. It was like some inner force was daring him to push the hunter to his limits.

Sam glared at the demon, who walked good fifteen yards before him. The gash in his chest was burning and stinging whenever the fabric of his hoodie made contact with it. Sometimes it was also itchy ...

The hunter cursed himself. When did he turn into a little whining girl about a small scratch?

Sam picked up some speed to not lose the demon out of his sight.

Soon they were out of the woods and crossing open fields and dirt-roads, far off the main roads. By the time, the warm late-autumn-sun was standing high above them, Sam was holding the scratch on his chest and was more stumbling than walking behind the demon.

Dean Winchester didn't show any signs that he was going to take a break soon. And out of nowhere, he suddenly aimed at a group of old giant oaks, where he stopped and dropped his duffel.

Sam staggered into his direction, trying to keep his poker-face up. Though he failed miserably. He was sweaty and pale and he felt hot despite the cool air. With a huff, he leaned against one of the trees and slid down, until his butt met the ground.

Sam stole a glance at the demon, who wasn't even sweating a bit, nor did he look exhausted or thirsty or whatever else. He cursed the man loudly in his mind. He called him all the names he could think of at the moment.

Dean didn't sit down. He just watched the hunter from the corners of his eyes. If it would've been about him, he could've kept going on. But he knew that the human needed a break. The scratch in which he had stuck his fingers into Sam's body to get the coin out haven't been clean ... what meant he'd high likely get an infection ...

"I'll go and get us something to drink.", The demon said calmly and pushed himself off from the oak where he was leaning against.

Sam caught his gaze for a split moment and if he wasn't mistaken he could see worry in the older man's eyes. _Honest_ worry ...

* * *

Sam didn't know how long it took, but when Dean came back he had the field-bottle which he had in his duffel, filled with water. The demon wouldn't say a single word. He just squat down beside Sam and handed him the bottle.

The hunter took it with shaky hands and guided it to his mouth. Though the more he tried not to spill the precious liquid, the shakier his hands got. Then there were Dean's, steadying the bottle and lifting it up a bit to make it easier for Sam to drink.

"Thanks ...", Sam muttered as he let go of the bottle and leaned back. "... you know ... I'm sorry."

Dean rose both eyebrows in surprise and glanced at him. "'m sorry too.", he gave back after a long while of sitting beside Sam, leaning against the tree.

His words sounded honest.

"It's just ... you're a demon ..." Sam said after some more time.

Dean huffed out a breath. "And you're a hunter ..."

"Touchè." The hunter shifted a bit and winced.

"We could try to keep it low until we're with my friend, huh?", Dean said then. "It's a safe place. - They won't find you there ..."

Sam smiled a bit. "So ... you think you ain't the only one they're going to try to track down now? - What have you even done to get into Alistair's black book?"

The demon huffed out a breath. "Stole something for the ritual ..."_ ... and some more shit._

The hunter chuckled. "Guess he didn't take it very well ..."

Now Dean chuckled too. "Nah ... he didn't." Then he cleared his throat. "You know ... despite the fact that you're a hunter ... _and_ a bitch ... you ain't that bad at all."

Sam huffed out a lough. "For the fact that you're a demon ... _and_ a jerk ... you ain't THAT bad either."

_... to be continued_

* * *

**BACON? PEANUTBUTTER-CUPS? CHOCOLATE? REVIEW? ... something ... just ... just give me something, okay?**


	9. Chapter 9 The Salvage

_**I just got my first BETA'D chapter of this story sent back to me :)**_

**THANK YOU, _gothpandaodaku_, for helping me SOOO MUCH :)**

* * *

_**Obsidian ~ Raise A Little Hell**_

**The Road So Far:**

_The demon huffed out a breath. "Stole something for the ritual ..."__ ... and some more shit._

_The hunter chuckled. "Guess he didn't take it very well ..."_

_Now Dean chuckled too. "Nah ... he didn't." Then he cleared his throat. "You know ... despite the fact that you're a hunter ... __and__ a bitch ... you ain't that bad at all."_

_Sam huffed out a lough. "For the fact that you're a demon ... __and__ a jerk ... you ain't THAT bad either."_

* * *

_**Chapter 9 ~ The Salvage**_

They sat under the trees for a long time. Both of them stayed quiet and just stared ahead.

Dean figured that the human needed some more time, though he knew that they had to get moving soon. Even if it seemed comfortable at the moment.

"We should get going.", Sam said quietly, without looking at the demon.

Dean nodded. "I know." He didn't look at the hunter either.

"Who's that friend of yours anyway?"

"Someone I trust.", the demon gave back quietly. "He's an ex-hunter in fact ... so don't you worry."

Now Sam looked over at the demon, taking in his profile with a deepening frown. "A hunter?"

"Ex-hunter.", Dean corrected him, "He's a good man and an old friend ..."

The hunter couldn't suppress a laugh. This whole situation was just ironic. "That's why you were goin' easy on me?"

Dean Winchester rose his left eyebrow at the man beside him. "You're human. - You're not a bad guy, Campbell. I haven't killed any human being that wasn't supposed to die ... so far." He cleared his throat. "Except collateral damage or those who got in the way ..."

Sam looked back ahead, obviously thinking hard.

"Don't break your pretty head, Sammy." Dean grinned. "A demon like me ain't worth it to think about. - Besides ... as soon as Alistair's dead we won't meet again. - Promise."

Now it was Sam's turn to rise an eyebrow at the man. "What about the ritual?"

"What about it?"

Sam Campbell huffed. "What about it? - It didn't work ... don't you wanna give it a second try?"

Dean's face fell and it became unreadable in the very moment. "It didn't work, did it? - I'm still ...", he stopped himself before revealing his intentions. A weak spot the hunter could use to get to him ... "It just didn't work and that's it. There ain't gonna be a second try."

Sam thought he could hear honest disappointment and sadness in the man's voice. "What about the other ritual? ..."

"I'd need five pints of blood, hunter ... are you offering yourself?" With a risen eyebrow he looked over at Sam once again, who was still staring ahead.

"No ... I just ... I figured you're goin' to try the other one ...", Sam muttered absently.

Dean chuckled and shook his head. "To be honest ... I thought about it. Thought about pinning you to the damn wall and letting you bleed out so I'd get what I want. - But then ... besides the promise I've made ... I couldn't. Maybe ... maybe some things should stay as they are."

Sam sucked his lower lip in. "What is it for? The ritual?"

That was, when Dean was pulling back and shutting down again. "None of your business." His voice wasn't warm and gentle anymore, carried on a wave of emotions. It was cold and clinical. "We need to get moving. - 'm gonna call my friend as soon as I've a signal."

* * *

They walked for another hour, before Dean Winchester's phone got a signal. That was when he stopped and a soft smile played on his lips. "Yathzee!", he called out and stopped in his tracks. "Here we go ..."

He typed something and then he held the phone to his ear. It took five rings until someone picked up and Singer's Heavenly Peace Burial was on the other line.

"Hey there, old man.", Dean said saucily, trying to keep his voice low.

There was a gruff voice yelling into the phone, so that the demon held it a few inches away from his ear. Sam turned towards him, eying him suspiciously. He couldn't make out what the guy was yelling, but it sounded ... familiar?

"I know, I know. - Look ... I'm in some deep shit here ...", Dean said in a more serious tone, snatching a glance at the hunter, who stood a couple of feet away from him.

_"No Dean. Not again ... you've damn freaking demonic powers. What kind of shit could you possibly be stuck in?"_, Bobby grumbled, as he bowed over the open duffel-bag on his table. He was currently searching for any hints that'd help him track down the missing kid. Bobby had been looking for him for FOUR whole weeks. Hell, he didn't even know what job he had been working on lately.

Sam Campbell had just disappeared from his death-bed in the hospital. Leaving behind a hand full of wounded and confused nurses and a doctor, who looked as if they'd been through hell. **Literally**. Bobby Singer supposed that they had been possessed ...

He had promised the boy's mother to keep an eye on him - at HER death-bed. He had promised her and he had failed. Now Samuel was gone and god knew where ...

Hadn't it been for the hospital calling him about his dying nephew, whose only emergency contact had been him, he wouldn't even have known where Sam was. They hadn't had contact since a couple of months ago ... not after the fiasco in Fargo with the shapeshifter ... not after that monster had revealed Sam's most secret secret to him.

The kid had simply broken up with him after the job had been done. Bobby had seen the shame and embarrassment in the younger man's face ... and hadn't known what to say to him ... which had obviously been worse than saying something stupid.

"Alistair, Bobby. It's Alistair. He's on our heels ..." Dean whispered, while he took care to keep his back towards the hunter, so that he couldn't read his lips.

"_Our_?" Bobby dropped the kid's journal and his eyes narrowed.

"I'm not exactly alone. - It's ... It's complicated, Bobby. - The man's hurt ... probably an infected wound ..." Dean cleared his throat gingerly. "I can't get to my car just now ... We're on our way to a city close by – It'd be nice if you could pick us up and get me back to the cabin ..." He cleared his throat again. "Maybe we could hole up in the salvage?"

Bobby huffed out a gruff breath. "I'm in the middle of a case, boy. - An IMPORTANT case."

Dean rose both eyebrows. That was a new one. So far barely anything had been more important than him when he was calling for help.

"A case?" A genuine smirk built on the demon's face. "You finally gettin' laid or something?"

"Shut up, idjit!" There was a moment of silence. "I'm gonna lose two whole days – at least ... and the boy could be god knows where ... tortured or even worse ..."_ ... dead._

Dean let his head hang and he closed his eyes for a long moment. The old man sounded seriously concerned. "Look, Bobby. I wouldn't call you if it ain't important. - The man's in danger ... and he's still alive." He sounded gentle now. "You pick us up, lose two days and I'm gonna help you find whoever you're lookin' for. - I know about some spells that're gonna work for sure ..."

Silence and then there was a heavy sigh. "Fine ... okay ... I'm comin' – Just tell me the guy who's with you ain't a civilian?"

Dean chuckled nervously. "No. He's a hunter ..."

Bobby blew out a surprised breath. "And he didn't try to kill ya'? What've you done? Cuffed him to to the sink?"

Dean stole a glance at Sam, who still stood a couple of feet away, eying him curiously. "No ... Actually he's uncuffed. - Just ... kinda wounded ..." He cleared his throat. "Pick us up and I'll tell you everything, 'kay? - I'll send you a message with the coordinates of the town ..."

"Gotcha. - Just ... just try to stay out of trouble until I'm there ..." Bobby sounded worried. "... And don't kill each other in the meantime. I'd neither wanna dig a hole for you or the hunter ..."

Dean laughed, sounding relieved. "Sure thing. - And thanks old man."

The line went dead right after and Dean stuffed his phone back into his jeans-pocket, after he had sent the coordinates of Little Falls to Bobby.

"Troubles?", Sam asked, his gaze glued to the man.

Dean pursed his lips. "Kind of. – We have to make it into town and hole up for a day in a motel. He's gonna be here tomorrow." He turned around to face the hunter. The man looked exhausted and sweaty ... a bit pale around his nose and with a pair of darkening circles under his eyes. "An hour or two until we're there ..."

Sam nodded and swallowed. The wound on his chest stung a bit more and it started to feel hot and a bit more itchy than before. "You ... you put something in me, didn't you? - A hexbag or somethin'?"

Dean sighed and looked aside for a moment. "Yeah well ... kind of. A cursed coin ... had to get it out of ya' – fast." His gaze flickered towards where the wound had to be. "It's infected, isn't it?"

Sam shrugged and looked aside. "Guess so."

Dean's eyes narrowed. "You runnin' a fever?"

Sam shook his head. "Nah ... I'm good."

The demon rose both eyebrows. "I don't like liars.", he stated and walked towards the hunter, in two long fast strides.

Sam stepped back.

"Don't be a pussy. - Let me see.", Dean demanded and reached for the hem of Sam's hoodie, but the hunter slapped it aside.

"I said it's good." He gave the man a glare.

"Don't make me use my abilities. - I'm gonna pin you down and take a look at it if you don't let me.", the demon threatened coldly.

Sam wasn't up for a fight, or struggle or whatever, so he gave in and lifted the hoodie, so that the demon could get a good look at it. - Like he wanted to.

It was truly infected. Bruised and angrily red around the small gaping wound. "I'm gonna take care of it as soon as we're in a motel."

Sam let go of the hem and gave the demon a short nod. It still felt weird to feel thankful for things someone did for him, who had captured, beaten and used him. So he kept his mouth shut.

* * *

By nightfall they walked into town and soon had found a decent motel. Dean got a room with two queens at the end of the building.

When they finally entered, and Dean shut the door behind the both of them, Sam aimed for the bed closest to the door.

"Dude nope. - This one's mine.", Dean said matter-of-factly. "Go take the other one." He strode past Sam and dropped his duffel on the bed, before the hunter could say something.

Sam let himself drop on the other one and closed his eyes the very moment when his head hit the pillows. The demon glanced over at him with a blank expression, while he pulled his wallet from the duffel.

"Gonna get us something to eat and stuff to patch you up properly." His eyes were still on the hunter's face, who gave him an approving groan and a sharp nod. "You okay with burgers and fries?"

Sam gave him another nod. Whatever. He just wanted to sleep and rest his aching bones. When this was over he'd go on holiday – for a damn freakin' long time.

Right now? Right now he didn't care if a horde of vamps or weres would come through that damn door and rip him apart. The only thing he wanted was silence and sleep and maybe some more silence.

The demon sniffed and sighed. "Fine. I'm back in about an hour. - And don't open the door ..."

Sam blinked his left eye open and gazed at the demon, giving him an _as-if-it'd-matter_ look.

* * *

True to his word, Dean Winchester was back an hour later, with two paper-bags and two cups of coffee. He had sent a message with the hotel's name and their room-number to Bobby while he had been waiting for the order.

Sam had fallen asleep soon after he had left, right hand laying on the left side of his chest.

Dean found himself thinking about if he should let the hunter sleep some more ... though the necessity of patching up the wound and getting fluids into him was more urgent than sleep at the moment. So he dropped the bags on the table and sat the coffee-cups beside it, before he strode over to the bed and nudged Sam in his calf.

"I'm back, Campbell," Dean stated hesitantly (much to his confusion his voice sounded insecure).

The hunter stirred and his eyes fluttered open with a groan. "What?"

"'m back. Food. Patchin' up. - C'mon, dude." Dean walked back to the table and grabbed one of the bags to drop it right beside Sam's hip. He wrapped his sleeves up and started to open the bag.

Sam propped up on his elbows and eyed the man warily. "I'm gonna do it myself. - Thanks."

Dean huffed out an amused snort. "Let me." His eyes flickered towards the hunter's trembling hand. "Ain't nothin' special anyway."

Sam glared at him. "I don't want you to stuff something else inside me AGAIN. - Back off."

Dean Winchester rose his hand as if to stop the man from reaching for the bag, showing him his open palms.

The hunter found himself pressed by invisible forces into the mattress and was unable to move. "Dude. - I said back off."

"Nah. - I'm doin' it." He gave him a cocky smirk. "You just lie here and relax."

Sam gave him a bitchface. He was tired and sore and nauseous. So he gave in. AGAIN.

"Got you antibiotics and painkillers. - Just stay still and let me patch it up." Dean's gaze flickered towards the younger man, before he carefully shoved the hoodie up and eyed the wound.

He then got to work, fast and precise. Dean disinfected the wound with real antiseptic fluid, cleaned it and put some antiseptic salve on it. He then got gauze and tape and covered the wound.

Sam eyed every move warily, ready to protest as soon as he thought the guy was doing something wrong.

Dean was doing nothing wrong.

The demon traced his fingertips over the swollen area of flesh, feeling the heat and tenderness of the skin there. And he started to wonder, if every part of the hunter would feel like that under his hands. Soft, though firm. The tips of his fingers ghosted over the muscles covering Sam's ribs. A few inches away from the wound, but close enough to not let the hunter suspect anything inappropriate.

Dean's eyes flickered towards Sam's face, where a pair of big innocent looking hazel-eyes stared in his direction. There were so many shades of green and brown and blue ... he couldn't define which one was dominating ...

The demon's lips formed into a thin line and he tore his gaze away from the well tanned skin of Sam's neck towards the wound. When Dean was done and had pulled the hoodie back down, he released Sam from the invisible grip he had on him.

"Wasn't that bad, was it?" Dean seemed to be proud ... and somehow he looked at him with a hopeful expression on his face.

An expression, Sam didn't want to destroy ... actually. "Yeah ... yeah it's fine ...", he muttered.

"Get up. - Food's gettin' cold over there."

They ate in silence. Each one of them a burger with fries, coke and coffee.

Sam got up from the chair and gathered the papers and stuffed them into the empty paper bag. Dean watched him intently, as the hunter moved over to the dust bin in between the both beds. On his way he dropped the bag and bowed down, his butt looking right in Dean's direction. All firm with a pair of strong thighs.

The demon tilted his head to the side with a saucy smirk. "You know ... you've got a damn nice ass, Sammy ...", he said, his gaze glued to the man's buttocks.

Sam straightened up immediately and threw the guy a bitchface over his shoulder. "Can't say the same about yours."

"Just because you haven't seen it yet. - Besides ... with all that denim it doesn't look half as good as it does without ..." His smirk formed into a grin as he saw the hunter blush in a deep red.

"Gladly I don't have to see your naked ass.", Sam gave back and threw the bag into the bin. "Ever." With that he turned around and stared daggers at the demon.

Dean pursed his lips, obviously overthinking what he was going to say. He decided not to. Still amused, he rubbed over his full belly and groaned. Time for a nap anyway, since a shower was out of possibilities. Sure he could take one, but he wouldn't have any fresh clothes anyway. He guessed he had to stand the blood-soaked shirt a day longer, until Bobby would come and pick them up.

At least he had clothes and other of his belongings stored in the ex-hunter's house in case he'd need them.

The both of them headed towards their beds and flopped down on them, falling asleep soon after.

* * *

It wasn't until the late afternoon of the next day, that there was a knock on their door and a gruff sounding voice was cursing loudly. Bobby had gotten some dog-poo on his soles.

Sam was lying in bed and in a deep, painkillers-induced sleep, when Dean glanced over at him before he walked to the door and opened it slowly.

The bearded man looked up at the demon, thrusting his jaw forward. "I hope it's freakin' worth it.", he grumbled as he walked inside, not really paying attention to the man on the bed. "What's goin' on boy?"

Dean closed the door behind him and turned around. "Good to see you too.", he said calmly with a slight smile.

Bobby sighed heavily. Just like that they both wrapped their arms around each other in a bear-hug, thumping their backs and parted a moment later again.

"So ... where's the hunter and how did you even end up with him? Figured you ain't exactly comfortable around our kind ...", Bobby looked around the room and as his gaze landed on the younger man on the bed his eyes widened and his jaw dropped open.

He gazed at the demon and back at Sam Campbell, then back at the demon. "That's the hunter you're with?"

"Long story, old man.", Dean said and strode over to the table, pulling one of the chairs out and slumping down on another one.

"How long exactly? Because I've been looking for that kid for four damn weeks after the hospital called me ... and when I came Sam was gone and five people explained the symptoms of demon-possession to me? - What the hell happened?" Bobby's voice sounded a lot more high-pitched than normal due to surprise.

Dean glanced at Sam and back at Bobby. "He's your case?"

"I promised his mother to keep an eye on him, Dean.", Bobby blurted out, his heart racing. "What kind of trouble did you get him into?" There was something reproachful in his voice.

The demon's eyes narrowed. "Hunter's are always in some kind of danger. - So don't you accuse me of bringing one into trouble. He would've DIED if it hadn't been for me ... so you know."

Bobby looked back at the bed, unsure if he should get closer or not.

"Besides ... when you were supposed to have a close eye on him ... how come you weren't there at the hospital? - How come you obviously didn't know where to find him?"

Bobby seemed to feel caught. He cast his eyes down and sniffed. "I'm makin' mistakes too, boy." His gaze graces over the dried blood on Dean's shirt.

Dean caught the older man's stare. "Not his. It's mine." He glared at the ex-hunter, feeling somehow betrayed. "And thanks for worrying about me as much as about HIM."

Bobby rose both eyebrows. "You don't die that easy, Dean. - HE on the other hand does."

The grizzled hunter had a point.

"Okay ... so ... can we go and grab my car now? - I don't wanna stay here longer than necessary." Dean tried to keep his voice low, as he sensed the hunter stir and turn over on his right side.

"Not before I know why you took Sam from the hospital, boy." Bobby glared daggers at him.

Dean huffed out an annoyed breath. "We can talk when we're on the way."

"Nope. We can't. I wanna know about it. And I want to know NOW.", Bobby barked, not as calm as he had been seconds before. "Outside. NOW."

Dean rolled his eyes, regretting it immediately as he got swat on the back of head for rolling his eyes at the older man.

The door slid shut behind them and Sam started to stir again. He turned back on his back and blinked one of his eyes open. He thought he had heard the door ...

His second eye blinked open. After a few minutes of staring at the ceiling and listening to muffled voices, which both seemed familiar to him, he propped up on his elbows and eyed the door that led outside. His eyes narrowed suspiciously as he tried to put his finger on to whom the second voice belonged to.

Still in a haze of sleep and painkillers, he groaned and slid his legs from the bed, making contact with the floor. He then got on his wobbling feet and strode towards the door, as the gruff voice was getting more and more loud and agitated ... and PISSED.

Sam didn't wait ... nor think if he was even allowed to disturb the conversation, that Dean and the other man – high likely deliberately – had outside of their room. So he wrenched the door open and met the surprised looking wide eyes of two men. Two men he knew ...

"Bobby?", he asked hoarsely, as he blinked flabbergasted at the bearded man.

"Sam.", the grizzled hunter said.

The hunter's gaze darted towards the demon and back at Bobby. "You? ... you ... you're the friend he was talking about?"

Bobby Singer shrugged and looked aside. "Well ... I guess the cat's out of the bag ..."

"At least it ain't a question of trust anymore." Dean grinned. "Can we go now? - Gettin' my car?"

Bobby glared at the demon and looked apologetically at the younger hunter.

Sam swayed for a moment and took a deep breath, trying to steady himself against the door frame.

Two pairs of hands were immediately on him, so he wouldn't fall forward.

"What have you done to him?" Bobby stared at the demon, demanding an honest answer.

"Like I told you. I had to get the coin out of him.", Dean repeated, "The wound got infected ..."

"Don't tell me you stuck your dirty fingers into him?!" The grizzled man stared at him in shock.

"Well ... I didn't exactly have my kit with me ..." Dean didn't understand what the big deal was. The hunter was alive, wasn't he?

"Holy shit, boy. - He's gonna get blood poisoning!" Bobby hissed.

"I've got antibiotics. He won't." Dean slipped with his shoulder under the younger man's arm. "I'd really like to leave this shithole now, 'kay? - Yell at me all you want later on. NOW we gotta leave." _... and pick up my baby._

* * *

The two-hour drive to the cabin was rather tense. Bobby drove. Dean sat in the passenger's seat and stared out of the windshield. Sam sat in between a bunch of Bobby's belongings squeezed on the back-seat.

Sam wasn't mad at all, at least he had something that was holding him upright and could lean on. He knew the signs of blood-poisoning well, so he wasn't surprised as the sickness dared to overwhelm him while they drove.

Sam didn't bother to get out of the car at all, while Dean hurried into the cabin and gathered most of his stuff to dump them in the Impala's trunk.

Bobby took the lead with his pick up, and the demon was following short after, heading north. Bobby had suggested to Sam to change into the passenger's seat, but the younger hunter had told him that he'd rather stay in the back, where he could take a nap.

Five stops later on the side of the road (because Sam had to retch and heave his guts out) and two stops for food later, they finally pulled up in front of Bobby's house on the outskirts of Sioux Falls.

After four weeks of close to constant company, Dean Winchester felt kind of alone in his black baby while he drove. His gaze was glued to the older man's car all the way, never leaving it out under his sight, even if he knew his way to the Salvage on his own.

He wondered if it was because Sam sat in the car. Dean would never admit to himself that he was kind of missing the hunter after the first hour of driving. He wouldn't admit that he was glad, when the pick up pulled over on the side of the road to let Sam out and heave his guts out. He'd never admit that he was there, right beside the young hunter, kneeling beside him, one hand on his shoulder. He wouldn't be a demon if he would have admitted that he was worried about Sam Campbell and that he'd rather have him in his car on the backseat instead of Bobby's.

By the time they got to the Salvage, Sam was a feverish, shivering mess, barely capable of recognising his surroundings.

The only things his mind was registering was, not to heave up half the burger he had eaten and the pills and the water he had drunk to get them down.

Bobby was getting out of the car, stretching his stiff limbs from him, before he opened the door behind the driver's seat to help Sam out. At least the hunter managed to get past a pile of wooden boxes and stumbled out of the car, falling on his knees right beside it.

Again, Sam felt calloused hands on him, feeling his neck and forehead and gripping him under his left arm. A moment later there was another set of hands on him and he felt himself lifted off the ground. Sure he tried to hold up the slow pace Bobby and Dean were setting, but it was no use. His legs wouldn't obey, nor his arms. His whole body felt like wobbly jell-o by the time they got through the front-door and into the living-room, where both men rather dragged than walked him to the couch and let him sit down there.

Sam slumped back and closed his eyes, letting his head roll back against the backrest. He felt a hand – which sure as hell wasn't Bobby's – against his forehead, cheek and then neck. It felt cool against his heated skin and was gentle and careful as if it could hurt him further. Then there was another hand on his shoulder and he was guided to the side until his head rested on something soft and cozy. Moments later he felt his legs lifted up and he figured he was now lying on the couch, with one hand dangling down from it, his fingertips brushing over the worn out carpet that covered the wooden floor around the coffee table.

There was the hand again, which took his and lifted it gently, draping it on his stomach. Through the slits of his half-open eyes he thought he saw the demon sitting on the small table beside him and watching him.

The man was talking to him ... saying things he didn't understand ... not through the haze of fever and pain. Though he figured that he wanted him to drink and take whatever he had in his other hand.

Dean sighed heavily. Sam didn't understand.

So he rose from the table and kneeled down beside it. "I need you to drink and take these pills.", Dean said once more as he popped the pills into Sam's mouth and helped him raise his head to take a few sips of water to get them down.

The demon brushed a sweaty strand of hair out of Sam's face and let his head back on the pillow.

Bobby leaned in the doorway, watching the both of them like a hawk. "Bed's ready.", he said quietly.

Dean gave him a short look and a sharp nod. He didn't want to move Sam right now. The man seemed comfortable and close to drifting off again.

"Or we let him rest for a while and get him upstairs later.", Bobby suggested then as he saw the hesitation in the demon's eyes.

Dean gave him another glance and a short nod and settled back on the table, until Robert Singer shoved the black leather-recliner beside the couch.

Somehow it felt weird to see the demon he'd known ever since he had been an infant worried about someone else. - Not since Azazel had killed his father and brother. Maybe Dean was more human than he confessed to himself.

Bobby had made his peace with how and what Dean was long before John had been able to. There were worse things on earth than this. There were worse people than Demon-Dean among humanity.

_... to be continued_

* * *

_sooo ... how bad do you guys want me to continue? ^^ _

_and what couldn't be even better than having one beta? _

_HAVING 2 BETAS :)_

_THANK YOU to **SINGREADER** for betaing "HABITAT", so I am going to be able to repost the chapters in propper english ^^_

_I AM DAMN HAPPY_


	10. Chapter 10 Heal

THANK YOU again, for my awesome BETA **gothpandatoku** :) you're awesome, girl!

_**Obsidian ~ Raise A Little Hell**_

**The Road So Far:**

_"Or we let him rest for a while and get him upstairs later.", Bobby suggested then as he saw the hesitation in the demon's eyes._

_Dean gave him another glance and a short nod and settled back on the table, until Robert Singer shoved the black leather-recliner beside the couch._

_Somehow it felt weird to see the demon he'd known ever since he had been an infant worried about someone else. - Not since Azazel had killed his father and brother. Maybe Dean was more human than he confessed to himself._

_Bobby had made his peace with how and what Dean was long before John had been able to. There were worse things on earth than this. There were worse people than Demon-Dean among humanity._

* * *

_**Chapter 10 ~ Heal**_

For someone who didn't need sleep, Dean slept pretty long. Fifteen hours straight, without so much as a twitch. He slept right beside the couch, where Sam was out cold ever since Dean had given him the pills. Bobby had taken over the duty of getting another pill into Sam six hours later as it was about time for another dose of antibiotics ...

The grizzled ex-hunter had Sam's medication in one hand and a glass of juice in his other one, tiptoeing around the furniture towards the couch. He put the glass silently on the coffee-table and was about to reach for Sam's shoulder, when a hand grabbed him by the wrist tightly.

The old man jumped and the pill slipped from his hand. It fell to the floor and rolled somewhere under the couch.

"D-Dean.", Bobby stuttered, his gaze drawn towards a pair of dangerously sparkling obsidian eyes. The older man's heart thumped rapidly against his ribcage.

The demon let go of him as if he had been burned and cleared his throat, an apology on his lips as his eyes morphed back to normal and he sat up in the recliner. "Sorry, Bobby."

"You better be, boy.", he grumbled gruffly. "You're givin' me a heart attack some day."

Dean slumped back into the soft, leather-covered furniture and wiped over his face with both hands. "How long?"

"Half a day.", Bobby kneeled down and searched under the couch, but came back up with empty hands.

"Sam?", Dean asked hoarsely.

"The same. - Got him awake a couple of times to sip water and get the antibiotics into him.", Bobby answered silently and huffed. "The fever went down a couple of hours ago ... seems like the medication's startin' to work."

Dean looked up at the older man, watching him while he talked. Bobby looked tired and exhausted. "Why don't you lay down for a while? I don't need sleep anyway."

Bobby's bushy eyebrows furrowed. "Nah. - Don't you worry boy." He gave him a weak smile. "I'm glad you got some sleep ... you're always ... different afterwards ..."

Dean rose an eyebrow at the gruff man with the soft heart. "Is that so?", he asked matter-of-factly.

"You can say what you want, Winchester. - But you're acting way more human after you got some sleep." He winked at him. "I'm gonna be in my room. - Just holler when you need somethin'."

Dean gave him a nod and gazed over at Sam.

* * *

Three damn long days until Sam was responsive enough to tell Bobby and Dean what he needed. Three days of helping the young hunter on his feet, getting him into the bathroom and serving him water and juice to keep his fluids up, since he didn't bother to touch any solid food.

Three days in which Bobby and Dean took turns in staying by Sam's side, so they wouldn't miss anything.

Though, Sam was still sleeping a hell of a lot. Most of the day actually. And Dean took exquisite care that he wouldn't be interrupted while he did so.

* * *

Bobby was about to prepare bacon and scrambled eggs in the kitchen, when Dean came in to get his first mug of coffee of the day. He looked tired, with ruffled hair (which he insisted he never had to put gel in) and with an old shirt and loose sweats.

As he stood beside the old man, pouring himself some coffee into a mug, Bobby watched him carefully from the corners of his eyes. Dean got a second mug from the cupboard beside the stove and poured in some coffee too (just not as much as in his own). He then added a butt-load of sugar and milk into it and stirred with a spoon until all the sugar was dissolved.

Since Bobby was more of an observer, he didn't really talk about what he had noticed over the past couple of days. He didn't point out to Dean that his behavior towards Sam was kind of over-protective and possessive and ... kind of weird to be honest. Bobby hadn't seen Dean caring about someone like that (as good as he could allow himself), ever since John and Adam had died.

Before that he had been what other people called NORMAL. But after that ... the boy had seemed dislocated and withdrawn for a very long time.

Now he wasn't anymore, although he tended to keep others at a distance and far away from the part of him that contained his feelings. Sometimes it looked like he had locked them down in a box and buried them half a mile under the surface of his mind.

But now? Now it seemed as if there were some feelings leaking through and coming back up ...

Bobby could also tell, that Dean seemed to struggle with that internally. Mostly it was because of the looks he was giving Sam. The way he touched him (ever so carefully), when he was feeling for his temperature, or helping him to sit up.

And Sam? Sam seemed wary and partly confused. Bobby was sure the hunter would end up punching Dean at some point ...

But Sam didn't.

It wasn't like Dean was hyper-nice towards Sam Campbell all the time – no, he actually was not. Dean Winchester was just different. Extremely different from the man he knew. Bobby now saw something in the demon, he hadn't seen within the past sixteen years.

There were flickers of affection whenever he looked at the sick hunter. The way his voice grew softer and more tentative instead of the harsh, commanding tone he usually used to have whenever he was talking to anyone else but Bobby.

"He's doin' alright?", Bobby asked as he stirred in the eggs.

"Ain't awake yet.", Dean grumbled and took a sip from his coffee. "Gonna wake him for the pills though."

"You slept?", the grizzled ex-hunter kept on asking.

Dean groaned. "Sleepin' too much lately."

Bobby chuckled and pulled the pan with eggs from the heating plate. "You ... you feel tired?"

Dean Winchester looked up and met the gaze of his old friend. "If you're referring to the ritual. Nope. Nothing's different. Still have this demonic darkness that wants me to go out there and murder." He was serious. Deadly serious.

"Oh ...", Bobby Singer breathed, sounding disappointed, "... I just thought ..."

"I'd know, Bobby." The demon broke eye contact with the hunter. "I wish it'd worked. - Would've been better for everyone ..."

"Maybe you're supposed to be the way you are, boy." He took the two plates and started to split the contents of the pan on them. "Ain't anything wrong about it."  
Dean huffed out a breath. "Everything's wrong 'bout it, Bobby.", he looked back with a sad expression on his face. "I'm never gonna be normal. - I'm fighting each day to act as human as possible."

The grizzled hunter put the pan into the sink. "Doesn't look like a fight when you're taking care of Sam ..."

"I owe him. That's why.", and with that, Dean Winchester shuffled with two mugs of coffee in his hands towards the stairs.

"Doesn't look like that either.", Bobby Singer grumbled, as he snatched one of the strips of bacon from the other pan.

* * *

Sam felt sick. He felt sick and nauseous and just like crap. He felt like a giant flesh-eating plant had chewed through him and spit him out again. He felt like he'd been ripped apart and put together again. And on top of all that there was Dean Winchester. A demon. A demon who was actually taking care of him – who seemed to care ABOUT him.

The man was usually there when he woke up. With something to drink, or to eat. He was there when he needed to go to the toilet, or when he wanted to get cleaned up. The demon was there – even at night ...

Besides all of that, the man was gentle and somewhat careful with him.

Sam wanted to be mad at him – so bad. He wanted to call him names and tell him to go to hell whenever Dean was there with a glass of juice and made him drink. But he couldn't. He just couldn't bring himself to hate the DEMON. Because Dean Winchester didn't give him a single reason to do so. There was no cockiness, no bossing around ... NOTHING. Nothing that made him think he'd act like a dick.

* * *

Sam turned over on his left side to face the door towards the corridor. He had been settled in one of Bobby's rooms days ago and hadn't seen anything else of the house yet. He hadn't even been alone whenever he had woken up so far. There had always been Bobby or the demon in the chair that stood beside his bed.

He stared at the far wall, counting the water-stains and thinking about what the shapes of them could be. Though his brain was too tired to figure anything out right now, so he just stared ahead.

Sam groaned again as his full bladder demanded to be emptied.

Since he was a Campbell, he wouldn't need any help this time. The bathroom was just a couple of feet away – nothing he couldn't handle on his own.

Sam was about to put some weight on his feet and legs and braced his outstretched arms against the mattress beneath him, when the door to his room opened and Dean Winchester came through it, with two mugs, one in each hand.

The hunter's head snapped up.

"Woah ... what the hell do you think you're doin'?" Dean sounded already annoyed – and the day haven't even started yet.

The demon went over to the nightstand where he placed the mugs and then to Sam's side, slipping his arm under the younger man's armpit.

Sam got to his feet awkwardly, leaning with half of his weight against Dean as they made their way towards the bathroom.

"Why?", Sam asked as they where halfway there.

"Why what?" Dean's voice was hoarse and silent.

"Why're you doing this? Helping me?", Sam asked and stole a glance at the demon, "You don't have to be nice just because we're at Bobby's ... just because he knows me ... and you."

Dean huffed out a laugh. "I owe you, boy. - That's why. And now shut up and concentrate on walkin' and not to pee yourself before we're there."  
Sam put some more of his weight onto the demon.

"I don't owe you THAT much.", Dean grumbled and gave the hunter a gentle shove.

"You owe me." Sam grinned mischievously at the man with a cocked eyebrow. "Even more." He leaned against Dean heavier again.

"Bitch.", Dean hissed with a smirk.

"Jerk.", Sam gave back.

* * *

_Two weeks later ..._

Sam was up and about again. He still felt a little bit sore, but was close to one hundred percent again. He was close to doing a back-flip when he saw his belongings in the small closet on the other side of the wall. Bobby had gotten everything from the hospital and his motel room, including the Pick Up he had been driving, to the salvage. Before anyone would find his arsenal, which was well hidden under the backseat.

Sam sat in the kitchen, with a cup of coffee in his hands, while he studied the newspaper. He wasn't exactly looking for a job, but if he found something suspicious he sure wouldn't say no.

He and the demon – _Dean_ – had somehow become something like friends – at least they weren't foes anymore. Not really. Sure they were bickering and teasing each other, but it was more in a loving way than to truly hurt the other one with words.

Bobby strode into the kitchen towards the coffee maker and the younger hunter looked up shortly from the newspaper.

"Somethin' interesting?" Bobby poured himself some coffee and added sugar to the steaming black liquid.

Sam shook his head and pursed his lips. "Nah ... looks like there ain't any weird stuff goin' on ... which is actually kind of weird ..." He looked confused, with a hint of a smile on his lips. "... it's also weird that there aren't any pages between twenty-four and twenty-eight ever since you and Dean have been getting me the newspapers ..." Sam didn't have to look up to see the shell-shocked expression on the old man's face, nor how his body tensed in that way that told Sam that he had caught the ex-hunter.

Bobby cleared his throat as he turned around slowly to face the younger man. "Well ...", he said hoarsely, "That's kinda weird, boy."

Sam sighed and looked up, locking his gaze with the ex-hunter's. "Why don't you want me to check on hunts?" His eyes narrowed, reading the older man like an open book. Sure they didn't know each other very well, but Sam had a special gift of reading people. "Why is it that you both are trying to keep me here at the Salvage?"

Bobby cleared his throat again. "Alistair's out there somewhere. - Lookin' for you ... and Dean."

Sam huffed out a laugh. "We never paid a lot of interest in who's after us. - We're hunters."

"Alistair's a bastard, Sam. - He wants you, he'll get to you. One way or another. The safest place's here. In the yard, in the house ... just _not_ out there." Robert Singer tried to explain.

"How come you know that much? And since when are you friends with a demon by the way?" Questions Sam had ever since Bobby had appeared at the motel to pick them up.

"Long story, boy. – Dean is what he is. He was born that way. That's all you need to know ..." Bobby said pensively. "Dean's not a bad person, Sam. - He's just lost ... ever since ... back then, you know?" He took a gulp from his coffee before he continued: "And for how I know that much about Alistair. Well ... he's a high-rank demon, Sam. - You got him on your heels, you're screwed ... usually."

"What about Dean?" Sam couldn't quite tell why he wanted to know specifically. He just WANTED to know ... "Why aren't you worried about him?"

Bobby sighed deeply and his face darkened. "I am worried about him." He looked up. "He's like my own flesh and blood, Sam. - It's just ... he gets shot and he stands back up IF he even falls. He's unbreakable. That's why. I know whatever's gonna happen he'll make it out alive.", his voice grew more silent. "But you? You're gonna die, boy. You get shot, you'll die."

Sam shook his head with a sad smile. "It's not true ..." He looked into his mug, eying the brown liquid intently. "... Dean Winchester's already broken. - Whatever happened back then ... whatever happened to HIM ... it broke him. Didn't it?"

Bobby Singer didn't answer. He just sighed and thought about the younger hunter's words. It was true. Dean was another person now than he was in the past. The man had built up walls around himself and wouldn't let anyone come close to him. At least not knowingly.

* * *

Dean was out the whole day until the late afternoon. When he came back, he looked exhausted and beaten up. _Literally_ beaten up. There was blood on his scalp and an already healing gash on his left cheek. He was limping slightly and the angle of his right arm seemed off.

All the demon wanted was to pop his shoulder back in and watch some TV in the living-room.

But then there was Sam, standing in the doorway to the living-room, staring shocked at him.

"What the hell happened to YOU?" the hunter asked wide-eyed, as he watched Dean walk towards the couch.

The demon chuckled and blew out a deep sigh. "Demon. - Got in a fight ... well ... I made it. He didn't." Dean gave the hunter a triumphant, satisfied look.

"You look like shit, man." Sam took a step towards him. "You obviously have a dislocated shoulder ... and-"

He was stopped by Dean Winchester's open palm right in front of his face as he intended to get closer and have a look at the man's injuries. "It's gonna heal, Sam. ... Just ... just gonna need someone to pop my shoulder back in and I'm fine again."

Sam frowned. This wasn't a demon standing in front of him. This was a man. A human man. A man who felt pain when he got hurt. He saw it all over the man's posture, his face. His eyes. The way Dean Winchester's dark-green circles moved under a haze of pain and how his breaths came out in short puffs.

"Yeah ... well ... I'd say lets pop your shoulder back in, huh?" The hunter took in the demon's appearance once more.

Dean let his hand fall down at his side, not looking at the human before him. This was kind of embarrassing. HE, the great Winchester, knight of hell, depending on a hunter.

"You done this before?", Dean asked after another moment of thinking and before he looked up at the man.

Sam nodded. "Once or twice ... or would you rather wait for Bobby to come back? Though he's out in the yard somewhere ..."

Dean huffed out a breath. He'd rather have Bobby do it ... but under these circumstances ... "Fine. - Do it fast."

Sam gave him a sharp nod. Then he laid one hand on the man's shoulder and one on his shoulder blade. He could feel the firm muscles under his tightening grip and the way they protested against being touched.

"On three.", Sam said.

The demon looked aside and swallowed thickly. "On three."

"One." Sam didn't as much as flinch as his grip tightened and let the joint in a fast pull and push snap back into place.

The demon grunted and squeezed his eyes shut, swaying for a moment on his feet as the sharp pain lanced through his arm and shoulder, up into his neck and sideways into his ribcage.

Sam tightened his grip once more, as he felt the man sway and hurried up to guide him towards the couch and down on it.

"Where've you been?", Sam asked with a deep frown. His voice was a mixture of concern and curiosity.

"Talked to a demon.", Dean answered silently. "He knew nothin'."

"Talked?", Sam asked with risen eyebrows.

"... with my fists.", Dean added, a sly smirk forming on his pouty lips. His gaze flickered towards the hunter, who was standing beside him. "... and a knife."

"Figured." Now Sam was smirking too. "How long?"

Dean glanced at him again. "What?"

"How long's it goin' to take until you're healed up?", Sam asked silently.

"Not long." The demon cleared his throat. "There's no lead on Alistair ... it's too silent around him and I don't like it ..."

Sam pursed his lips. "You think he's up to something?"

The demon nodded. "I stole a damn black bone from him. - Hard to get ... So yeah. He sure won't let this slip. No one steals from Alistair without paying a price. No one RUNS from him either."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "What price? There isn't any point in tryin' to kill you ... or hurting you, is it?"

The demon chuckled low and sucked in a deep breath. "Alistair didn't have the bone without a reason, Sammy." He looked at the hunter. "I wanted to wash my soul clean with the spell we did at the new moon's night. - Alistair wanted to do quite the opposite with it."

The look in Dean's eyes went hollow and empty. "He wants to get rid of the last piece of humanity that's in me. - He wants to capture me and do HIS version of the ritual."

Sam blinked surprised. THAT changed his perspective on things completely. "What would happen if he'd succeed?" The hunter's voice was calm, but hoarse. He could clearly imagine what could possibly happen then, though he needed to hear it.

"Death, Sam. - Death." Dean answered seriously. "As soon as the ritual would be done, I wouldn't be me anymore ... He'd use my purified blood to raise the four riders, who'd herald the rise of Lucifer himself." He looked aside, visibly shaken by the imagination of that. "And that'd be the end." Dean paused. "The end of everything."

Sam had to sit down on the coffee-table, or his knees would've given out under him. Sure he had always thought about god and lucifer. Heaven and Hell. Good and Evil. But it had never sounded that CLOSE. He had never truly believed that there was something like pure evil, or pure good ...

He had believed that there was a god ... somewhere, somehow. But when it meant that there'd be God, then there had to be Lucifer too ... somewhere, somehow. A thought he didn't want to wrap his mind around just yet.

The demon smiled sadly at the hunter as he saw how pale the man's face grew, and how it was shaking him up. The deep urge of giving him comfort found itself in the depths of his soul.

"Don't you worry. - I won't let that happen anyway." Dean didn't sound as convincing as he wanted to.

The hunter didn't look up, nor did he seem to give a lot of attention to what the Winchester was trying to tell him. "I'd rather die."

Sam's gaze flickered back up at the man. "What do we do?"

Dena chuckled. "We? - WE are doing nothing if you wanna have some apple-pie-life some time in the future, hunter." He looked sympathetically at him. "This is _my_ war, not yours. It's up to _me_."

The hunter frowned, as if the demon had just told him that aliens were real. He had never thought about an apple pie life, nor had he thought about what would be LATER – after hunting. And he clearly didn't want to go there with his thoughts NOW. Not when it was about the world's future.

"It doesn't have to be." Sam's voice was thin, though strong with determination as he searched the demon's face with his eyes. "No one should fight a fight like this one on his own."

Dean looked at him in disbelieve. "You're offering your support to a demon?"

A mischievous grin formed on the hunter's lips. "Looks that way, huh?"

_... to be continued_

* * *

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	11. Chapter 11 Affection

**BETA****'D by**_** gothbandaotaku**_

_**Obsidian ~ Raise A Little Hell**_

**The Road So Far:**

_Sam's gaze flickered back up at the man. "What do we do?"_

_Dena chuckled. "We? - WE are doing nothing if you wanna have some apple-pie-life some time in the future, hunter." He looked sympathetically at him. "This is __my__ war, not yours. It's up to __me__."_

_The hunter frowned, as if the demon had just told him that aliens were real. He had never thought about an apple pie life, nor had he thought about what would be LATER – after hunting. And he clearly didn't want to go there with his thoughts NOW. Not when it was about the world's future._

_"It doesn't have to be." Sam's voice was thin, though strong with determination as he searched the demon's face with his eyes. "No one should fight a fight like this one on his own."_

_Dean looked at him in disbelieve. "You're offering your support to a demon?"_

_A mischievous grin formed on the hunter's lips. "Looks that way, huh?"_

* * *

_**Chapter 11 ~ Affection**_

After their small heart to heart in the living room, the hunter and the demon were hovering over some of Bobby's old books, trying to figure out if there was a spell or something to hide them from the demons permanently, since the grisgris wouldn't last for long. They would have to make up new ones every couple of days ...

They came up with nothing.

"Maybe ... we shouldn't hide." Sam looked up from the book and looked over at the Winchester.

Dean looked up from his book and blinked a couple of times as if the hunter's words were giving him the creeps ... The demon sucked in his lower lip and bit down on it. Still thinking, his green eyes stared into nothingness.

"Maybe ...", Dean started thoughtfully, "... maybe you're right."

Rather surprised, the hunter took in the demon's face. He hadn't thought that the man would jump on his train of thought that easy. After all he seemed to be that kind of person that wouldn't let other's make suggestions and letting them sink into his own mind.

"Maybe ... we should go out there and get them to get a jump on US ...", the demon thought aloud.

"Yeah. - Alistair wants you ... or he's goin' to try to get to you through me ...", Sam cleared his throat gingerly. "... No demon could possibly withstand the chance to get bonus points in his boss's book, huh?" He rose an eyebrow and smirked.

"You've got a point there." Dean looked over at the man with a smile, which was all kinds of wicked. "We could let them get the drop on one of us – and the other one's there as backup. We capture the bastard and squeeze some information out of him ..."

Sam gave him a nod, their gazes locked over the short distance while they spoke. "Sounds like a plan to me."

"Though ... we should get some distance between Sioux Falls and us before we drop the grisgris somewhere." Dean seemed to think again.

Sam Campbell got the man's point. "Sure. Don't want the old man involved, do we?"

"Who do you not want to get involved in what?" Bobby entered the living-room and stopped in his tracks, as his gaze landed on the younger men on the couch. He eyed them curiously for a long moment. His features changed slightly and he tilted his head to the side. "Oh god. You both got a crappy plan, don't ya'? Who's gonna be the bait?" He looked at Sam. "Douchebag" Then his gaze wandered over to Dean. "Or Knucklehead."

Both stared at him in dismay.

"Not sure yet. - I'm for douchebag." Dean grinned from ear to ear, his face a plaster of freckles and dimples.

Sam nudged him into his upper arm with his fist – hard. "Knucklehead's gonna be the better bait."

"Well, knucklehead wouldn't be so stupid to get caught. They'd know something's foul." Dean rose an eyebrow at the hunter. "You on the other hand ..."

"You callin' me stupid?" Sam pursed his lips, glaring at the demon.

"Nah. I'm sayin' that humans are stupid in general. Didn't address you directly, Samantha." Dean wiggled his eyebrows with the insult.

Sam threw him a bitchface, a completely new one he hadn't seen before.

"Oookay ..." Bobby turned towards his desk with risen eyebrows. "... tell me when you're done with flirting." He walked over to his desk and sat down at it, burying his nose in one of the open books.

Sam was blushing.

Dean's face went serious again.

"We have to head out for this, Bobby," the demon said seriously.

" No reason for you to get into trouble," Sam added as he spoke to the ex-hunter.

Bobby Singer looked up. "Me?" There was strain in his voice.

"Well yeah .. .you ain't exactly the youngest ... and way too long gone from the business." Dean answered as it was clear as day WHY Bobby couldn't be part of this hunt.

The older man huffed out a breath. "I'm in pretty good shape, idjit." He sighed and rubbed his forehead. He knew the both of them. He also knew that both of them were stubborn as hell and had a lot of headbutting ahead of them. And that there was no way to argue with them. Besides they were grown men. One of them a seasoned hunter and the other one an invulnerable demon.

Which itself was rather uncommon and an explosive mixture.

"You both are gonna call me every other day and fill me in.", Bobby said then.

The both gave him short nods.

"One has to stay outta the line anyway ..." A grin formed on the former hunter's lips. "... so I can save your sorry asses later."

Dean huffed out a breath.

Sam grinned at the demon beside him.

Bobby just hoped he wouldn't have to, since he truly was out of practice _and_ shape ...

* * *

Two days later, Dean and Sam were on the road, heading south. They had picked one of the towns they had found on the web, which seemed to have demon activity. Electric storms, weird deaths and all that kind of things. If they were lucky, they'd get a drop on one of those bitches to squeeze some information out of them.

Having found a town didn't mean they were set though. They also needed to FIND that bastard, or let him find them. In this case SAM.

No low level demon would dare to touch the Winchester, specially not as the knight of hell he was – that much was clear. So there was no other chance than using a human as bait and since Sam Campbell refused to just wait and let the demon get a drop on some poor male in his twenties, he offered himself for the job.

Other than that ... this demon was a pretty wicked one. He used to hit on guys in bars (what they supposed, in either male or female form) and get them to take him home with them. The police hadn't found a lead yet, since they had no clue about demons and their abilities. All they had were dead men and likewise women or men who suffered from amnesia and weird flashes of pictures, what the doctors and paramedics actually thought were the aftermath of some new drug.

So Sam and Dean holed up in one of the crappiest motels the hunter had ever been and since they didn't have a whole lot of money and for their safety (at least Dean said so), they had a room with two single queens.

Something Sam seemed obviously unamused about. They would share a damn bathroom and a bedroom. They'd hear each other sleep or see each other in compromising positions or acts ... Usually Sam loved his privacy and the ability to keep his dignity (not that he had already lost some of it to the demon, who had already seen him bare-ass naked. Though Sam didn't seem to remember and Dean didn't intend on telling him ... though the hunter surely knew ...).

* * *

Sam slumped down on the bed furthest from the door, since Dean had immediately occupied the one closest to it. He stretched out on the tight fit that was called a bed and groaned.

Dean glanced over his shoulder at the hunter, as he rummaged in his duffel for the canister of salt.

"Not gonna ward the room, hunter?", he asked curiously, while he continued to have a close eye on the man on the bed from the corner of his left eye.

Sam huffed out a breath. "I'm with a freakin' knight of hell ...", he said jokingly. "Besides, I'm sure you're doing the warding right, _Deana_."

Dean froze in his movement of pulling the small canister from his bag and turned around halfway to look at the hunter. He opened his mouth to say something ... but no sounds came out and he closed it again. He just stared at the hunter, who wore a smug grin on his face.

"Deana?", he finally asked, all flabbergasted and in disbelieve, "That's all you can come up with after a four-hour drive of thinkin'?"

Sam chuckled and closed his eyes, nestling into the pillow. He didn't answer right away. "Was just waiting for you to give me a reason ... actually I figured this one out when I heard you singin' in the shower last night."

The demon looked back into his duffel, thinking if there weren't a pair of used briefs left to throw them into the hunter's face. Sadly he had just clean clothes with him.

"You're hittin' low, Samantha ... I never mentioned hearing you making those compromising noises at night - So don't come complaining about my singin'." Dean stole a glance at the hunter, who gulped down a breath, as he drew the saltline along the threshold of the door.

"You ... you can't ... I haven't." Sam's face turned bright red and his eyes were now open, staring at the other man at the table.

Dean Winchester barked out a laugh. "Nah, don't you worry - I didn't. Was just testing you ...", he grinned to himself satisfied. "Knew you're a pink lil' virgin."  
The hunter threw him bitchface number thirteen. YES, thirteen. Dean had counted about twenty different so far, and this one always came up when it was about innuendos and sex.

"Now that you officially admitted that you're a girl ... I'm gonna pick the first shower. Don't want all your fluffy starwberry-shampoo-smell on me." He gave the hunter a smirk and tossed the canister back into his duffel.

"It ain't strawberry, idiot! That's almond blossom ..." The words just came over his lips. He couldn't stop himself right then and had to bite his lip so not to sound any more gay.

The demon laughed hard, shaking his head and looked at him with this deeply amused ever-so-green eyes with a _proofed_-look, and if he had known Sam'd fall for his remark about shampoo.

"Don't you worry. - I'm not gonna use all the hot water, princess." Dean winked at him – still utterly amused about the way Sam's face was tainted in a deep red and how he tried to not look embarrassed.

* * *

It was the third night in the bar, where three out of five victims had disappeared. It was their only lead, so they started there. Though the chances were high that the demon had long-lost fun to taunt men in their late twenties and moved on to something else ...

Like always, Sam sat at the bar on his own, while Dean had went in earlier, lingering in a corner and ordering one beer after another until the clock stroke midnight.

Sam was about to call it a night, simply by walking out of the bar and striding the three blocks to their motel room on his own in case the demon was changing his tactics of how to get a drop on his victims. Surely, Dean wasn't far away. He always had a watchful eye on the hunter from the distance, always ready to jump in before anything could go south.

A tall man – taller than even Sam, surely about 6"10 – claimed the bar-stool at Sam's left side and threw the hunter a lingering look before he ordered himself a Budweiser. Again he shared a short look with Sam, who blinked his long lashes at him and the stranger rose a second finger and pointed at the hunter's nearly empty bottle.

Dean straightened up in his seat and narrowed his eyes.

"Thanks." Sam smiled faintly at the man and sighed heavily.

The sudden rush of adrenaline let his mind gear up in anticipation. Of course there wasn't any hint that the guy was a demon, though there was the _possibility_.

Sam took the man's figure in. He had short spiked hair, nearly like Dean's, just a few nuances darker and his eyes were of a brown-green with yellow freckles in them. The man seemed strong by the looks of it, well-trained, though he kind of hid it under the thick black pullover and black jeans.

The hunter would've lied to himself if he pretended that the guy wasn't right up his alley. And even though the man wasn't a demon, he surely could use some distraction, and he might head back to the man's ... whatever ... to have some kind of fun for once.

Usually Sam wasn't the type for one night stands. He was more into the whole touchy feely stuff (like Bobby used to say sometimes) and into the whole true love things than just having a nice round of bodily closeness. Not because he was a prude. There were more than a couple of reasons for him to choose his partners wisely.

And though ... this guy seemed like he'd be worth it to make an exception ...

"You're welcome." The stranger's voice was smooth and low, though it didn't make Sam's skin shiver like Dean Winchester's used to, when it was all husky (mostly after he just woke) and seducing.

"Sam." He extended his hand towards the stranger.

"David," the stranger returned with a smile, showing his white teeth. "Nice to meet you."

Sam chuckled and gave the bartender a nod as he placed the ordered beer before him and took the already warm one away.

"Nice to meet you too, David." There were dimples spreading over the hunter's face as he lowered his gaze shyly at the beer before him and back up at the man.

Dean sat in his dark corner and had watched as the guy entered the bar. Instantly he had sensed the darkness that was surrounding him. His eyes narrowed further, as the man chose the stool right beside Sam and took a seat on it.

Dean gripped the bottle of beer in his hands tighter, as he watched the hunter flashing bright dimples and an utterly adorable, shy smile at the stranger. Something like jealousy gripped the demon's heart in the very moment, when he saw Sam Campbell's reaction at whatever the guy had said.

* * *

Two hours.

And the bar was still stuffed full with people.

Dean had never taken off his eyes from the couple at the bar. Not even when they moved further aside, and occupied one of the love-seats with those small tables across the room. Sam was sticking to the plan – he was never disappearing from Dean's line of vision. He didn't even go to the bathroom.

Man, that boy had to have a bladder like a horse!

Dean could've visited the damn bathroom like an hour ago, but hadn't dared ever since the guy was giving Sam company. The whole thing started to get ridiculous. Sam was flirting shamelessly with the guy.

Dean hadn't ordered another beer ever since he had first seen Sam lighten up at the man's words (whatever the heck he was whispering into the hunter's ear every now and then). Nope. He had changed to Jack and a couple of shots of Captain.

And now he sat there, wondering if the hunter had already figured out that the bastard, who tentatively laid his hand high onto Sam's thigh, was a demon.

Then FINALLY, he caught _the sign_ that Sam and the guy would leave. It wasn't much. Just a split second when their gazes met over the distance, as Sam let his look sweep through the room.

Dean laid a hand full of bills onto the table and sat his abandoned glass on them as he rose from his chair to get ready and follow the two of them wherever they'd go. As he had thought, they left the bar through the back entrance, right down the corridor where the toilets were, onto the back-street.

David had Sam's hand in his and guided him past two overloaded dumpsters, before he backed him up against the wall.

"Handsome.", David breathed huskily into Sam's ear, his hands on the hunter's hip as he pushed him further into the wall with his muscular body.

Sam went along. He knew this guy was far from human. Well, maybe the meatsuit was, but what stuck in him wasn't. He had known as soon as he had caught the flicker of obsidian in the man's eyes when he suggested to leave and get somewhere more private. What obviously had to be the alley.

"You live somewhere around here?" Sam panted, as the guy was trailing his tongue over his throat. He had to hold the bile down, that dared to rise in his throat.

"Nah ... don't need to hide," David breathed as ne nipped on the hunter's earlobe, pressing his hips against Sam's. "Shame I can't show you off to my folks, Sam."

The hunter swallowed thickly. It was about time that Dean would show up ... anytime NOW would be perfect though, before that bastard would try to get into his pants and he'd have to take care of him himself.

Like his prayers had been heard, the man got ripped off him and suddenly there was a gunny sack – with red sigils - over the demon's head, and the man was lying face-down on the concrete with a damn pissed off knight of hell holding him down.

Dean looked up at Sam, visibly checking him over with his gaze, before his attention went back to the demon in the dirt. There had been a moment, when Sam thought to see, that the knight hadn't been as happy as he should've been about the smoothly going capture of the demon.

There was a moment, when there were so many emotions crossing Dean Winchester's face, that Sam didn't know wherever to be proud of himself or deeply ashamed.

Dean fumbled in the pockets of his jacket and pulled the keys of the Impala out. "Get baby.", he said, without looking at Sam and threw the keys towards the – still breathless – hunter.

Rather surprised, Sam caught the keys and went to get the car.

They then put the demon into the trunk and headed a couple of miles out of town, where they had set up an abandoned barn for the interrogation.

Soon they came to terms that the demon didn't know anything. So they silenced him with the demon-killing-knife instead of an exorcism. Why not exorcising him? The guy wasn't of any good in hell. He'd only screw up things and Alistair would get on their tail a little bit too soon.

On their way back into town and towards the motel, they were silent.

Both of them.

While Dean Winchester seemed kind of pissed off and if something was boiling beyond the surface (not just because they didn't get any usable answers from the demon), Sam Campbell looked a bit embarrassed. As if he had shown the demon a side about him he'd rather wanted to keep hidden.

They also stayed silent as they emerged their motel-room at dawn. They didn't argue about who was going to be the first one in the shower ...

Dean let Sam have the first turn, and Sam was thankful for it to be able and get the filth off of himself sooner than later.

They didn't even say their good nights.

And neither of them was able to fall asleep, no matter how tired they were.

Okay, Dean wasn't quite tired, but he figured he deserved a bit of rest too ... maybe even getting a real nice wet dream of some brunette or blonde ...

No such luck, by the way. Instead, his thoughts trailed off towards the man on the other other bed. He was thinking about HOW it could be possible to feel jealous, or feeling so much enormous rage about seeing someone else _touching_ the hunter ... making him SMILE ...

Sam on the other hand was bone-tired. Though he had to think about the expression on Dean's face as he had looked at him in the back-alley behind the bar – that one split moment where he thought to see hurt in the demon's eyes. Miraculously he felt dirty and filthy and as if he had betrayed himself or someone else, even when he couldn't quite tell whom. He simply felt as if he had done something WRONG ...

_... to be continued_

* * *

_THANK YOU TO ALL MY AWESOME FOLLOWERS, REVIEWERS & THOSE WHO FAVORITED THIS STORY :)_


	12. Chapter 12 Taking The Bait

_I've to admit, that I had some troubles about embedding a sex club into this story, and Sam actually wearing a collar and being a sub ..lol.. but I managed it, and here we go ^^ :)_

_have fun._

_THANK YOU for this prompt, it really challenged me._

**THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS implied past rape, and maybe some other triggering sequences.**

This chapter is beta'd by _gothbandaotaku_

* * *

_**Obsidian ~ Raise A Little Hell**_

**The Road So Far:**

_They didn't even say their good nights._

_And neither of them was able to fall asleep, no matter how tired they were._

_Okay, Dean wasn't quite tired, but he figured he deserved a bit of rest too ... maybe even getting a real nice wet dream of some brunette or blonde ..._

_No such luck. Instead, his thoughts trailed off towards the man on the other bed. He was thinking about HOW it could be possible to feel jealous, or feeling so much enormous rage about seeing someone else __touching__ the hunter ... making him SMILE ..._

_Sam on the other hand was bone-tired. Though he had to think about the expression on Dean's face as he had looked at him in the alley behind the bar – that one moment where he thought he saw hurt in the demon's eyes. Miraculously he felt dirty and filthy and as if he had betrayed himself or someone else, even when he couldn't quite tell whom. He simply felt as if he had done something WRONG ..._

* * *

_**Chapter 12 ~ Taking The Bait**_

_Another week, another town, another bar._

They had taken out three demons during the past week (including David). One of them had been holing up in a cabin, torturing and gutting women. The other one had a thing for the farmer and his kettle (something neither Dean nor Sam wanted to think about further).

The hunts and interrogations had gone down without any complications AND without anything new about Alistair and where that bastard was.

* * *

They were just stopping by in Sheridan, Wyoming to spend the night in a half decent abandoned house, since they were running low on money.

Both of them knew how to hustle pool and poker, so they soon found a bar where they'd be able to win much needed bills to get something into their stomachs and maybe a proper motel room.

The bar had a respectable pool table, small meals and a whole lot of booze.

They chose a table in the furthest corner, where they had a good look at the pool table and where they could watch the recent game between some bikers.

The waitress came with a tray of burgers, fries, ketchup, a beer and coke and placed them on their table, just five minutes after ordering.

Dean beamed up at her with a luscious smile, while Sam gave her a distant friendly nod.

„Who's it gonna be?" Sam asked as soon as the girl had disappeared and they were on their own again.

The demon pulled the plate with his burger and the fries closer to himself and eyed the giant serving for a moment longer before he looked up at the hunter.

„You good at pool?" Sam asked and took a sip from his coke.

„The best." Dean winked at him with a smug grin and a raised eyebrow. „Though, I'm givin' you a chance to prove yourself."

Sam huffed out a laugh. „What about _you_ proving yourself? Afraid of a couple of leather-daddies, _Deana_?"

Dean glared at him. He hated that nickname … he hated it **so** much. What he hated even more was the reaction it triggered deep inside of him, every time Sam called him that. He could've swat the hunter right across the face, though managed every time to keep his temper under control.

„Fine ..." the demon rummaged around in his front pocket and pulled a coin out, showing it to Sam. „... HEADS I have to show your _dream-come-true_ over there how it's done ...", he nodded towards the short chubby guy in chaps and a black leather vest and biker boots. Sam followed his gesture towards the man and glared at the demon in return. „... TAILS you're gonna get your chance to get your perky ass spanked by those S/M clowns."

Sam threw the demon bitchface number thirteen. „Fine." He thrust his jaw forward. „Deal."

Dean flipped the coin into the air, caught it and laid it on the table without breaking eye contact with the hunter.

„Ha!", Sam barked out with a satisfied smile. „Your turn to show them, big **bad** boy."

„Big bad DEMON, Sammy." He took the coin from the table before Sam could even get the idea of taking it away (since it was the only one of it's kind that Dean possessed – one with two heads) and stuffed it back into the front-pocket of his jeans.

The hunter chuckled to himself, amused and took a huge bite from his burger.

Dean smiled back at him, taking in how the dim light of the room caught in the hunter's blue-green and brown irises.

Sam chewed on the piece of burger, his gaze glued to the shiny emerald-green orbs of the demon's eyes.

The moment ended abruptly, when some drunk guy nudged at their table and nearly sent Dean's beer from the table into the demon's lap.

„Hey, asshole!", Dean called out angrily as he caught the glass before anything real bad could happen. „Watch where you're goin'!"

Sam burst out laughing.

„Not funny.", Dean muttered silently, „So not funny." Though he couldn't be mad at Sam … the way his eyes shone and the savory laughter … it was like music to his ears.

* * *

When they were done with eating, Dean sauntered up to the bikers at the pool table, while Sam leaned back and watched the demon for a while. The way his short spiked hair was perfectly styled all the time. The way he moved the chalk over the tip of the pole. How the muscles in his lower arm worked and the way his lips curled up just a bit as he started to play drunk.

After a while there were some people dancing to the music, while Sam was just tapping with the tip of his boots to the rhythm of the song. He watched them longingly. He never had enough self-esteem to even dare to get near a dance floor. Sure, when he was on his own and there was some utterly motivating music playing on the radio, he was – in fact – kind of moving to the music.

He practically had two left feet and would stumble over them if he'd even try, that much he was sure of.

So he simply kept watching those people with a soft smile on his face, completely sunken in thoughts, so that he didn't even notice one of the girls from the bar, who was coming over at his table.

„Hey.", she said with a friendly smile, ripping the hunter away from his thoughts.

„Hey.", Sam said hoarsely as he looked up at her surprised.

„I … I wondered … maybe I could sit with you?", she asked hesitantly.

Sam sniffed and his eyes widened for a moment before he gave her a nod. „Sure thing. - Not a lot of free chairs around the bar at the moment.", he stated as he noticed HOW FULL the establishment had become during the past thirty minutes.

The girl sat down and brushed strands of curly dark-brown hair out of her face, as she joined Sam in watching the dancers.

Dean stole glances at the hunter every now and then and tried to focus on the game the same time. So far he had everything under control. The hunter was still sitting at the table and the game was going good. More than just good – fantastic. Those idiots were at least as drunk as he was pretending to be.

A few stolen glances later, he noticed that Sam wasn't alone anymore. There was a girl sitting on the chair that used to be Dean's before he had left. His attention was drawn towards them and he stared a while longer than he was supposed to. Jealousy (unseen by everyone) crossed his features and let his emerald-green eyes darken dangerously.

An hour later, and Dean had hustled six hundred and fifty-five bucks and had drunken the bikers under the pool-table. None of them would go after him and try to get the money back. That much he was sure of.

An hour later, during which Sam and the girl had seemed to get closer, and in which she managed to coax Sam Campbell onto the dance floor. An hour in which Dean Winchester had thought about how it would play out if it was him there … with the hunter … on the dance floor …

But instead he walked over to their abandoned table and sat down on his former chair, watching the hunter's hip-rolls and swings a bit longer. The demon shifted uncomfortably in his chair, as the denim around his crotch started to grow tight.

Dean cast his look away and straightened up a bit, giving himself another five minutes before he'd walk over there and tell Sam that he was ready to go.

It took ten minutes until he had himself back under control and rose from the chair. Ever so casually he passed a couple of dancers, narrowing his eyes at the hunter from the side, who obviously was too lost in swinging his ass to the beat of the music, instead of noticing him.

A mischievous grin spread over the demon's face and he slapped his flat palm over Sam's left buttock.

The hunter yelped in surprise and froze.

So did the curly-haired woman before him, looking curiously at Sam and then at Dean.

„Ready to go, honey?", Dean purred, fixing the woman with a triumphant grin.

The hunter cleared his throat and opened his mouth to say something. He closed it again and just turned around to GLARE daggers at Dean.

The woman wore a confused and utterly surprised expression on her face, her eyes wide with realization that the man with whom she had been dancing was off limits.

Sam gave her a tight smile. „I gotta go, Sarah.", he said warmly.

„Yeah … sure … of course ...", she stammered, „Was nice to meet you."

„Awesome. - Lets go, baby boy. Don't wanna let our sheets become cold." Dean gave her a sly grin.

Sam was somewhat like unable to move right then. Instead he blushed and swallowed. This was embarrassing to the core. „Dean.", he hissed through gritted teeth and glared at the shorter man. While he turned back towards the girl, his facial expression changed again and he was smiling as soon as he was facing her. „It was real nice to meet you too."

When they got out of the bar, Sam took hold of the demon's shoulder and yanked him back so he could come in front of him before they'd reach the Impala.

„Dude. What the hell was that?" Sam hadn't been furious in the bar. He had been angry on his way out. He had been pissed, when they walked over the gravel. But now? Now he WAS furious.

„What?" The demon was still grinning at him, but there was a weird nuance to it.

„That show in the bar? What was that?" He wasn't just angry because of the show in the bar. He was angry because this was one of the rare episodes in his life, he was able to shut his business out and just enjoy himself.

„We both know you don't swing that way, Sammy, don't we? You're not interested in skirts." He cocked an eyebrow at the man.

Sam blew out a huff. His face changed the very moment and he rolled his eyes, letting go of the demon's shoulder and turned around without a further argument. There was no way he would get into the guy's car. He'd rather WALK than give this asshole company.

„Where you goin?!", Dean yelled after him.

There was no reply. Instead Sam was ignoring him and stubbornly walking towards the street without even looking back.

Sam couldn't ride in that damn car with the demon right now. Not when they would be just inches apart. Not because he was THAT pissed at him. Not because he was disgusted or something. It was because Dean Winchester started to mean something to him – and not just in a platonic way. There were feelings growing deep inside Sam he didn't want to admit to himself … something he didn't want the demon to notice, since that bastard would just taunt him about it.

With a deep sigh and fallen face, Dean pulled the keys from his jacket and stalked sulking towards his baby. That might not have been the right call … hell, it definitely hadn't been the right call …

When Dean finally pulled out of the parking lot, he chose the direct way towards the abandoned house they were holing up, in hope he'd pick Sam up somewhere on the way.

But the hunter had simply disappeared. Dean searched the closer streets around the bar, in case Sam had chosen to go somewhere else instead of their lair.

After all the hunter had those girly moods sometimes where he wanted to take a walk or something …

When Dean returned to their shithole called a house, Sam wasn't there either. So the demon paced the small room forth and back and finally found enough peace to settle down on his makeshift bed, but refused to close his eyes.

Sam didn't come home for another couple of hours. And when he eventually did, he was wasted and dirty. His jeans were ripped open on his knees and a bit bloody. So were his palms. He also had a split lip …

The demon manhandled the drunken sasquatch into the bathroom, telling him to take a shower. Which obviously worked.

When Sam seemed to be done, Dean put him into the hunter's makeshift bed on the floor after checking him over for injuries and tugged the blankets around him, so he wouldn't catch a cold.

That was about the time Dean fell asleep too. On his own _bed_ … alone … with a snoring hunter next to him, he actually had the hots for.

* * *

_One week, and two demons later …_

Currently they were crossing the border into a small town near Bozeman, Montana. Another town, where some bastards were messing around with humanity. Though, this time it was a whole demon-nest. At least Dean and Sam had to come to the conclusion, after there were reports about different circumstances in the same S/M and Sex club. Okay, there were other curious deaths along the way too, but it all seemed to start off at the club.

One of those cases again where Sam would play the bait.

Something that obviously made Sam on edge ever since they decided to pick this one and not the job two states over. The only reason why the hunter agreed to do THIS was because these demons weren't those low-rank-bastards they'd found so far.

Higher rank promised more information … useful information.

They chose a motel on the outskirts of the town, since both of them were clear that this wouldn't go down as easy as the last ones. They knew there was a possibility that one of them or even both would get injured and that they high likely had to leave sooner than later.

With that in mind, Dean and Sam took a whole day to plan and check the club out by daylight, before they'd head there at night.

One of the positive things were that Dean Winchester knew the owner. He had helped him out with a demon possession and a pretty nasty poltergeist a couple of years back. Something the man hadn't forgotten and had become sensitive to the things that lingered in the dark. That had been probably the reason why Carl had called the Winchester in the first place.

The owner seemed to know two of the victims personally, and had sent them different articles from the newspapers about other weird deaths.

Dean could see the hunter's tension. It practically made the air palpable around him …

„You haven't been in a club like this before, have you?", Dean asked, as he pulled an engraved knife from his duffel.

Sam, who was pulling a brand new dark-brown collar from his own didn't look at the demon. He just shook his head. „Have you?"

Dean chuckled with a knowing grin. „Yeah, yeah I have." He smirked, watching the man's backside and tilted his head to the side. „Ain't as bad as you may think it is. - Though … I can't tell how it is for a sub ..." The demon watched the man's reaction closely and could see the slight shudder that coursed through his body. He bit his lower lip pensively. „We can skip this one, if you want.", Dean said after a while, not sure if this was a good idea anyway. „It's not a big deal."

„No … we need to do this.", Sam said immediately. „We need proper information about Alistair. Something we can work with. We can't ditch the job just because I'm kind of uneasy about it."

Dean nodded to himself and stuffed a grisgris into the front pocket of his jeans. „I'll be in I get the feeling that it's about to go south, Sam … then I'm gonna blow the whole thing off." He saw the muscles in Sam's neck work while he talked. „We can always call other hunters to take care of it."

„Since when are you that concerned about me?" There was something achingly honest in the hunter's voice, even though he was trying to keep his tone light as if he were only joking.

Dean chuckled, a tight smile on his lips. „Because you kinda grew on me, bitch."

Sam smiled to himself. His hands closed tighter around the leather-collar and he turned around. „Good to know." He grinned at the demon.

„And me? Didn't I grow on you too?" Dean sounded kind of upset that Sam wouldn't say the same about him. „I mean, after all we've been through?"

Sam chuckled low. „You actually think I have Stockholm Syndrome, or what?"

Now there was something real HURT flickering over the demon's face – just for a split second.

„Whatever Samantha," Dean grumbled and slung the duffel over his shoulder. „Ready to go?"

They drove to the club soon after. It was somewhere downtown and in one of the lesser occupied streets at night.

Sam was still holding the collar in his hands as they parked a block away from the club, in one of the side-streets. He huffed out a breath, before he wrapped the offending thing around his neck and closed the clasp on its front.

„Watch it, Sam. - They're kinky bastards – always goin' for the lone subs in there.", Dean warned him, staring at him intently. „As soon as something seems off you're callin' me, got it? You ain't gettin' into anyone's car, or somethin'."

Sam gave him a sharp nod, trying to push the feeling of the smooth leather caressing the sensitive skin around his neck away. It felt humiliating and as if the thing was choking him just from being there.

On top of that, he wore clothes he'd never wear willingly. Tight, dark-blue jeans that showed off every single muscle of his buttocks and thighs. Black, worn out biker-boots he had been carrying around for years now, without use. And a tight, dark-grey shirt, which hid nothing of his body – espeically the collar.

Not to mention how uncomfortable he felt.

„Ready.", Sam said hoarsely.

„Okay. - We're gonna split up. I'm gettin' in from the back. I won't have any problems to get in as a dom. - The bouncer at the front's goin' to let you in, no matter how many guests are waiting. He's kinda waiting for YOU.", Dean explained again (just to be sure that Sam hadn't forgotten and that he'd feel a little safer in there.), „Ben – the bartender – is goin' to have a close eye on you too." Dean cleared his throat. Apparently he was nervous too. „Our plan should be bullet-proof." Because if just ONE THING went wrong, and those bastards got Sam out of the club without him noticing and transporting him somewhere else, he'd have some serious problems to track them down later on – not to mention what they could possibly do to Sam in the meantime. A thought, Dean Winchester didn't want to think about.

It wasn't that he didn't think Sam could handle himself. It was rather the idea that there could be up to seven demons in that damn club, looking for their next submissive, which they were going to take care of TOGETHER... A thought that made Dean Winchester's heart skip a few beats.

„I know, daddy." Sam grinned at the demon, but it wasn't a serious grin. It was strained and tense and told Dean more about how Sam felt right now, even when the hunter tried to cover his anxiety.

He had done a whole lot of crazy shit in his life to save people from the monsters in the dark … but this? Nope, he had never intended to visit a sex club … not even for a job … not after what had happened about ten years ago …

„What're you waiting for then? Get out of the damn car and swing your sexy ass down the street." Again there was this luscious smile forming on the demon's lips. He was practically checking him out, from tip to toe. „Wanna have something to watch in there … while I'm waitin'."

„Aw, shut up, jerk.", Sam punched the demon into the shoulder – HARD.

* * *

Sam had barely crossed anyone's path towards the club and though … somehow he felt uncomfortable … specially in those clothes … and with the collar. So he tilted the collar of his jacket up and only put it down as soon as he arrived at the entrance of the club, where about a dozen of people stood and waited to be let in.

The hunter earned some curious – and rather angry – glances, when he walked past the line and towards the bouncer. The man – who definitely had the physique of a damn bull – flashed him a grin and gave him a short nod, as he opened the door for Sam and let him slip inside.

Sam looked around curiously. There were a whole lot of people visible in the dim light. Most of them were standing at the bar, or were on the dance floor, grinding against each other. There were poles, on each one a girl or a man, clothed in latex and leather, either with collars or whips. Sure it was just show... but this was so not Sam's idea of a comfortable visit in a club with a couple of beers. Then again, he reminded himself … he was on a job and not there to have fun. Not that he thought he could have fun there at all.

The thought of having backup with him calmed him though. Knowing that there was a _knight of hell _somewhere among those people, having a close eye on everything was one of the reasons why he had said that he'd be in for it.

So he tried not to look left and right and made his way over the crowded dance floor towards the bar, where another guy – also built like a damn freaking bull and surely one head taller than Sam – stood behind the bar and served drinks.

A short exchange of looks, as soon as Sam had claimed one of the stools as his, and he knew that it had to be the guy called BEN, who was serving him a not ordered beer and giving him a short nod.

Sam gave him a nod back. Then he slid out of his jacket to reveal himself to the other guests.

He so hoped that this would work tonight and that he didn't have to come here again tomorrow.

* * *

Except for getting hit on by a bunch of leather-daddies and wicked looking doms, nothing happened.  
It was close to three in the morning, when Sam gave up and called it off. He and Dean met up at the Impala one block over and drove back to the motel. During their drive, Dean knew better than tease the hunter about his clothes, the collar, or the fact that he had turned down dozens of offers to have sex. He knew better than to get on Sam's nerve about how hot he had looked in there … and how hot he was still looking. Not that he didn't look extremely sexy in his other clothes … These were just … _specially tight in all the right places_.

Instead, Dean just laid his hand in between Sam's shoulder blades, as they walked towards their motel-room across the parking-lot. „Sorry man. - Guess we're gonna have to go there again ..."

Dean let the hunter have the bathroom first. - He didn't even mind that he would high likely use up all the hot water. He actually couldn't blame him. These kind of clubs weren't his style either. Except when they were. Dean blamed it on the fact that he was a demon … though there were rather more humans than demons into that whole S/M stuff, swinging and sex toys and all the other things that went down there.

* * *

The next evening didn't go down any better, except that Sam didn't feel that exposed and uncomfortable anymore. He even started to talk with others at the bar – mainly about not-sexual things and the guys who had disappeared from there, to get found three days later at the garbage dump or somewhere beside the streets.

He talked to the bartender and learned nothing new about the murders. Just that Ben the bartender was in a relationship with Carl, the owner. Sam already knew that the victims had been regular customers in the club – that was high likely one of the reasons why they didn't go for him just yet, even when he was supposed to be right up their alley.

All the time, Dean was there with him, never letting him out of his sight from some dark corner of the club that was reserved specially for him. He'd known Carl the owner for some years now. Back in the day he'd saved the guy's sorry POSSESSED ass. Sure, Carl had gotten pretty banged up, but he had survived. Ever since, the man wore an anti-possession tattoo, well hidden under layers of shirts.

A couple of years back, before this club had opened, there was a poltergeist screwing around with the customers. So Carl and Ben decided to call the Winchester and ask him for help.

So yeah, hearing that black-eyed bitches were high likely screwing around with his clients made the man's blood boil and he assured Dean that he'd support them in every way possible if they could make it stop.

Though, there was still the question of how they could even get into the club. That damn building was warded six days to sunday – just like Bobby's.

THAT was one of the questions Dean wanted to ask the killers …

* * *

It was the next week. The whole thing was starting to get boring by now. Their nightly trips to the club, followed by sleeping in late, eating and heading back out, were tiring.

Sam started to doubt that the demons were around there anymore. Then again, there had always been three to fourteen days between the kidnappings.

Sam and Dean also started to get kind of sloppy during that time. The demon flirted with the waitresses and others and was just _glancing_ towards the bar to check if Sam was still there.

Sam knew some of the clients well by now. Some of them just went there to dance. Others got there to get real wasted and have sex with a foreigner. Something Sam didn't quite understand, but accepted that there were also people out there who enjoyed this kind of life.

It didn't hit him unprepared that he got hit on by a couple in their late thirties. A tall, slender woman, with huge brown eyes and long black hair, and her partner. A guy, who was almost as tall as Sam was, and with an interesting costume, which totally fitted to the dom he obviously was.

„Wanna have a little fun, sweetheart?", the woman purred into his ear and licked at the lobe of it tentatively.

Sam swallowed. Usually people didn't get THIS close to him, even when he wasn't wearing a blue tag on his collar. Blue tags on collars in this club meant, that he already had a dom. No tag meant, that he was fair game to everyone in here – as long as it was consensual.

The very moment, the man walked up behind him, Sam felt his phone vibrate in the front-pocket of his jeans. It was a warning from Dean.

Adrenaline started to flood his veins in earnest as he thought about the possibility that these two could be demons …

Another vibrating sensation against his outer thigh and a third one. Which meant **Demons**.

The hunter forced himself to smile and give them a nod. „Just the two of you, right?", he asked.

The woman gave him a sharp nod.

Liar, was echoing through Sam's mind in an instant. She was lying. There'd be others waiting for them as soon as they'd leave the club.

„We have a room in the motel down the street," the man behind him whispered low into Sam's ear, which made the hunter shudder. „ our car's parked behind the club in the parking lot."

Sam nodded. He had to play it cool, or they would know. „Sounds good." he said silently, his gaze locked with the woman's before him.

She reached for Sam's big hand and curled her slim fingers around his, tugging at it. Sam obeyed and slid from the stool, not seeing that the woman's eyes flashed black for a split second as she turned her back at him.

As he walked across the dance floor, following the woman, his eyes swept over the crowd, trying to spot Dean somewhere among the people. But no such luck.

Sam took a deep steadying breath as he let himself being led outside through the back entrance. Actually he had expected to find a van or something waiting for them, but no. There wasn't even a sign of a parked vehicle on the lot – not a single one. Not even a small car.

Before Sam could even open his mouth, he found himself getting backed up against the wall and a pair of sly black eyes were grinning right into his face.

* * *

As soon as Dean had spotted the demons he was on high alert. He shifted in his seat and sat up in it, watching the both of them closely. First he thought they wouldn't bite, since they were talking to a petite girl with a choker around her neck, at the other end of the bar. But as soon as they tore away from her (after a make-out session right there in front of everyone), and sauntered over the dance floor towards the other side of the bar, where Sam was slurping one of his girly drinks, he knew.

As arranged, he sent Sam a message, waited a few seconds and sent a second and a third one.

When Sam got up from the stool and started to follow the woman towards the back-entrance, Dean rose as well and strode in the same direction. He just hadn't counted on those bastards knowing that the Winchester was there - That they had WAITED for him …

It was a set up.

So Dean was rather surprised when he felt a strong grip on his shoulder, holding him back. He spun around to see who was reckless enough to touch him without permission, and was shocked to not see a human there.

Nope.

What he saw was a pair of obsidian-black eyes.

Suddenly the music subsided. The people stopped dancing and looked around confused. At least another two dozen eyes flashed black.

„Look who's finally decided to join us," The demon in his leather outfit snarled, „Thought you'd never show up."

Dean glared at the man dangerously, while a smile formed on his lips and he chuckled. „I see you've been waiting for me." He had to play it cool, get out of there and help Sam with those bitches. The hunter had nothing but a small knife in his left boot. Something that wouldn't hurt those beings.

„Took you long enough though. Thought we'd have to torture and kill some more of those fags before you'd notice what's goin' on over here … Wouldn't have been like you though if you wouldn't have come." The demon tightened his hold on Dean's shoulder.

Dean looked the man over. He so wasn't right up his alley – not with his shaved head and all the leather. „I'm sorry, man, but I haven't got time for this shit.", he said calmly. „Maybe later on, huh?"

„He doesn't have time, folks!", the demon yelled and looked over his shoulders towards the others.

The humans among the crowd definitely seemed scared shitless.

The black eyed ones laughed, amused.

„Gonna tell ya'. Alistair's pissed at you, boy," the demon said calmly. „So … we both know you won't be able to fight of a dozen of us. Not even with your extra juice." He licked his lower lip. „We can do this the easy way or the hard way."

Dean chuckled and shook his head, his face plastered with dimples and bright amused eyes were looking back at the man. „You've no clue what shit you got yourself into."

The loudspeakers creaked and a foreign voice started to recite something the demons hadn't counted on. An exorcism.

The demon let go of Dean's shoulder as if it had burned his hand and frowned at him. He staggered back a few steps. A moment later, the sprinkler system roared to life and a clear fluid started to rain down on all of them.

Dean grinned down at the man, who was now on his knees and who cried out in agony as the holy water came down on him relentlessly.

„You shouldn't dare a knight, bastard.", Dean snarled, his grin now scornful.

Dean Winchester stepped over another couple of writhing creatures on the floor and before the exorcism ended, he was out of the club.

* * *

Sam tried desperately not to choke on the leather-belt that was wrapped around his throat.

Something had definitely gone south.

„I'm sorry, honey," the female demon whispered, as she leaned beside Sam against the wall, watching him closely. „It's just … we thought we could have a bit of fun over here instead of inside." She smiled reassuringly, as she brushed in a parody of fondness over Sam's cheeks. „I don't like to play bait, you know? … It's so … humilating." She bit her lower lip seductively and sighed.

The man loosened – what Sam supposed it was – the belt that was slung around his neck and sucked in a wheezing breath.

„I LOVE to see the life drain from someone's eyes … the fight … the last flicker of it draining away … I LOVE to watch ...", she said dreamily. „Jonah on the other hand … he's more a man of action." Her gaze flickered towards the guy, who was pressed against Sam's back, pushing him further into the wall.

Sam's vision was blurry from his watering eyes. It got about time for Dean to show the _hell_ up.

* * *

Dean rounded the corner, the engraved knife in his right hand and the other one braced against the wall. He heard movement from the back alley of the club and shushed voices …

* * *

Sam found himself thrown against the dumpster, face down on the cool metal. Again the belt around his neck got pulled tighter and he felt a big calloused hand on the fly of his jeans. Sam pushed back against the demon, in an attempt to break free, but all he earned for it was his throat closing up on him through the constricting leather that dug into his skin.

He was down to his boxer-briefs and barely aware anymore of what was actually about to happen, when there was a pained cry, and suddenly he felt the belt loosen around his throat and the man behind him was gone.

Sam couldn't hold himself up at the dumpster, nor would his legs support him anymore and he crumbled to the floor in a shivering heap of flesh and bones.

…_.. to be continued_


	13. Chapter 13 And On We Go

_**Thanks to my lovely beta: GOTHPANDAOTAKU**_

_**Obsidian ~ Raise A Little Hell**_

**The Road So Far:**

_Sam found himself thrown against the dumpster, face down on the cool metal. Again the belt around his neck got pulled tighter and he felt a big calloused hand on the fly of his jeans. Sam pushed back against the demon, in an attempt to break free, but all he earned for it was his throat closing up on him through the constricting leather that dug into his skin._

_He was down to his boxer-briefs and barely aware anymore of what was actually about to happen, when there was a pained cry, and suddenly he felt the belt loosen around his throat and the man behind him was gone._

_Sam couldn't hold himself up at the dumpster, nor would his legs support him anymore and he crumbled to the floor in a shivering heap of flesh and bones._

* * *

_**Chapter 13 ~ And On We Go**_

Dean Winchester snarled at the man who just had let go of Sam, and was now facing him. A pair of black eyes glared at the knight of hell. At the sight of whom he was actually facing, the guy threw his head back to make himself ready to smoke out.

But Dean Winchester was faster. He threw his knife, which sunk into the man's chest. A fire-like gleam illuminated the host before it sunk to the floor bonelessely.

Not caring about the bastard who had just tried to rape and KILL **his** hunter, he ran past him and fell to his knees beside Sam. Dean's features changed from death-promising into tender within seconds, as he cupped the hunter's face in his hands.

„Sam?", he asked, not caring that there was panic in his voice. „Sammy?" He tried again as he watched the man's half-lidded eyes gaze through him, as if he wasn't even there. The demon cursed and his hands slid down towards the belt that was still loosely wrapped around Sam's neck. He carefully started to remove it. The same went for the collar.

There were angry purple bruises and bleeding lacerations where the leather had cut into the hunter's skin. Another bruise was forming vividly all over the left side of his cheekbone and one on his forehead.

Sam sucked in a wheezing shallow breath.

Dean's fingers fluttered over Sam's chest and ribs, down to his abdomen. There was no sign of pain on the hunter's face when he touched him there. His gaze fluttered towards the black boxer briefs the hunter was wearing and further down to the jeans that were pooled around his ankles.

He grabbed the waistband and pulled them up over his thighs, looking once more at the younger man's face. There were signs of discomfort and something like fear.

„It's okay. - I'm just gonna pull them back up.", Dean muttered. He worked carefully but had to use some force to get the jeans back over Sam's butt and hips.

„Talk to me here, kiddo," Dean urged the younger man beneath him, „Sam?" He cursed as he didn't get any kind of response. „Fine ...", he muttered to himself, „... we're gonna get you back to the motel." _… or hospital _… depending on how he was doing during the drive.

Dean eased his arms under Sam's shoulder and knees and lifted him up with a grunt. The hunter whimpered – actually WHIMPERED, as his head lolled into the crook of the demon's neck. Sam tried to move his left arm up, which was dangling limply from him.

„It's okay, Sammy," Dean whispered gently, „It's gonna be okay."

„Shit shit shit." The Winchester shifted the taller man a bit, before he made his way back through the open back door of the club.

Carl and Ben were coming down the corridor in a jog. „Fuck," Ben breathed, „Is he alright?"

„Don't know yet," Dean panted.

„Should I call 911?" Carl asked uncertainly, since he didn't know the demon's plans and wasn't sure how intelligent it was to get the man into the ER with that many demons on their heels.

Dean Winchester shook his head. „We've a room on the outskirts in Rosy's Diner & Motel." Dean glanced down at Sam, who was still shaking and his skin started to get clammy with cold sweat. „One of you better get the wards and saltlines back up … I'm gonna need to get the Impala ..."

Carl and Ben gave him a short nod, then the bartender spoke up: „You can lay him down in one of our rooms." The man pointed towards his left, to a pink door with the number six on it. The demon rose an eyebrow at both men.

Carl just shrugged. „Some people like it like this."

Gladly the room inside wasn't pink (at least not that much. It was more rose and champagne). It looked like a regular high class hotel room in some girly establishment.

Dean carried the hunter over to the giant double bed and laid him down on it carefully. He brushed a strand of hair out of the younger man's face and shushed him again, as his face screwed up in what had to be pain.

„Maybe you shouldn't move him too much …" Ben spoke up hesitantly. „We closed the club for tonight – gettin' the last people out right now …"

„You could stay … until tomorrow ...", Carl added and shared a look with the bartender. „Or a couple of days anyway … Better here than in those crappy motel rooms you tend to stay in."

The men were right. Dean knew it. For Sam's sake at least. This place was – beside Bobby's – the safest he knew and one of the cleanest he'd ever seen.

„If that's possible?" he asked, watching their faces if they really meant it.

Both smiled and gave him a nod. „Of course we do," Carl spoke.

„You've saved my partner's life AND brought him back to me, lad," Ben added warmly and wrapped his arm around the owner's back. „Whatever you need."

Dean gave them a weak smile before he turned his attention back at the hunter on the bed. „You guys still got the doc around sometimes?"

Carl nodded, his eyes getting hooded. „Sure. I'm gonna call him."

„Thanks.", Dean gave them another nod and a warm smile. It was good to know that there were people whom he could trust.

Ben nudged Carl in the side and nodded towards the door, telling him to leave them alone for now.

Dean sighed and rubbed over his face. „Sam. - Can you hear me?" he asked, watching the human's face; especially his eyes.

The hunter's lips moved, though no words came out. „C'mon, boy. Give me a sign that you're in there, or 'm gonna drive you right into the ER."

Sam's eyelids fluttered and he blinked once, his lips kept on moving and there was a thin, barely hearable sound coming from the hunter's mouth.

Dean bowed down over him, until his ear was close to Sam's lips. „Again. - Say that again," he demanded silently.

Sam said it again, in this barely-there whisper.

The demon smiled a bit and nodded. „Fine. No hospital. At least as long as I think you won't die on me here in a damn freakin' pink room in a sex club. What am I gonna do about my reputation then?"

There was a thin smile building on the hunter's lips and he drew in another wheezing breath, that visibly hurt like a bitch.

The demon went around the bed and threw the free half of the giant comforter over Sam. He then went to the end of the bed, where the hunter's shoes stood out under the bedding and started to untie them. Ever so carefully he eased them off of his feet and sat them beside the bed.

A frown covered the hunter's forehead, as his chest rose once more with a deep inhale.

Dean then went into the small bathroom and came back out with a glass of water, which he put on the bedside table beside Sam's side. When he was done, he crawled on the empty side of the bed and laid down, watching the hunter closely. Dean could tell that the man wasn't asleep and that he just had his eyes closed.

This had gone south. Sam could've ended up dead … just like that. Just because he had gotten careless. If he had paid some more attention to the people around he might have noticed. But he hadn't. Dean had been checking out the other costumers – above all of them: SAM.

Wasn't he supposed to KNOW that there were already demons inside the club? He should've felt them, shouldn't he? Then again … it had been a trap, maybe the demons used some spell to hide from him …

He sighed and rested his head on the pillow. At least he got Sam (what actually felt weird to think and though it was a calming thought itself) away from them - **alive**.

* * *

The doctor came by an hour later. Sam was more out of it than before, which troubled the demon the most. The doctor was a man in his late sixties or even in his seventies, with drooping eyes and clear grey circles and a wooden cane with black engravings.

He greeted Dean with a serious expression, which darkened even further when his eyes fell on the injured hunter. The old man didn't talk a lot. He asked what happened – calmly and silently – and Dean explained it to him. All the doctor did was nod and have an extended look at the bruisings and lacerations. He cleaned them carefully, but didn't patch them up, telling the Winchester that it'd be better that way.

„He's gonna be damn sore, boy," the doctor said in a low voice, „It's gonna feel worse when he wakes up. If the wheezing increases, you should take him to the hospital – FAST. Don't hesitate." He paused and eyed the younger man thoughtfully.

Dean nodded, his eyes big and green while he listened eagerly to the doctor's orders. „Tell him not to talk a lot. Give him warm milk with honey to drink, it's going to ease his discomfort. Other than that ..." He hummed low.

Dean's eyes narrowed.

„... Make him rest properly. Despite what happened earlier, he looks exhausted." the doctor said.

The demon huffed out a breath. „You know how hunters are ..."

For the first time, the doctor smiled slightly. „Yes, I know. But I also know HOW you are. So make him rest for a couple of days. Maybe a week or two. Whatever you both are on, drop it for a while." Something mischievous was flashing over the doctor's face, unseen by the demon, whose attention was all on the hunter. „Besides … you look tired too."

The Winchester's gaze flickered up at the old man and he gave him a weak smile. „Whatever we're working on? I'm damn sure that you already know, don't you?"

The man chuckled. „Well yeah. It happens that I know that you want to find Alistair and take him out. I also know, that the both of you are working together." He caught the warning gaze of the demon. „Don't you worry, I won't tell anyone." He smiled. „I also know, that Alistair's on the quest for a new black bone." The doctor winked at him. „AND I also know that the both of you should find out how those bastards were able to hide from you, knight."

The demon pursed his lips. „We will."

„Good. Other than that he should be okay again very soon." The old doctor straightened with a pained moan and shook his head. „So will you, by the way. No matter what you think, Dean. Thing is … you don't need a ritual for changing particular things in life." He gave him a knowing grin.

The demon didn't understand … not at first at least.

„Good Night, demon. And take care of your human boyfriend over there." The doctor grinned cockily. „Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

„No … he's not ..." Dean tried to explain, set things right, but the doctor had already turned towards the door and rose a hand, waving over his shoulder.

„Good Night, Winchester. I'm hopefully not seein' you very soon again." The old man chuckled and walked out of the room.

Dean sat on the empty half of the bed for quite some time, thinking about the old man's words. Though they didn't make sense to him – not entirely at least. (Or he didn't want to know what they were supposed to mean. It wasn't like a demon was capable of feeling LOVE, was it? Then again … he didn't see himself as a full-blood-demon.)

Anyway, after a long while, the demon laid back and crossed his arms behind his head and stared at the rose-painted ceiling. For a long time he stayed like that without a particular thought, until something like fatigue started to drift into his mind. Usually he was able to shove it away, but this time he didn't quite want that. Instead he allowed himself to drift off with the thought that there was a slight possibility that he eventually might be able to fall in love with someone else. Real love, not just sex.

* * *

Dean laid on his back. He had just switched the lights off, when it started.

Harsh wheezing sounds. Movement on the mattress. Whimpers and something that pretty much sounded like begging.

It took the demon a few seconds to recognize it for what it was: Sam having a nightmare and trying to talk and breath at the same damn time.

Dean rolled over on his side, not quite sure what the hell to do about it. The hunter's abused throat wouldn't be thankful for any kind of harsh treatment right now, not even a whisper.

He watched the man through the darkness. Beads of sweat on his face. Pale as the white stripes in between the rose and champagne colored ones on the comforter. Pained whimpers that didn't fit a hunter.

„It's okay, Sammy," he whispered from the distance, knowing that it wouldn't help any, but he could assure himself that he had tried. „It's fine. You know it's fine, don't you? They're gone. - Dead."

Dean cursed loudly in his mind and shut his eyes for a long moment. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, before he opened his eyes again and reached over to the hunter, where he laid his flat palm over the comforter right above the man's solar plexus.

„It's fine, I said." He didn't want to do this, though he felt the urge to.

It was a battle between his mind and his heart. And the demon knew that. He just wasn't sure which one he should let win. He knew that he didn't know a lot about the hunter, but the things he knew were pretty colourful.

He knew he couldn't stand this much longer, so either he had to do something to help Sam, or he had to leave. The choice was his nonetheless. He couldn't tell why it was so hard to come to terms about his feelings, or to just let himself act on those feelings.

His heart told him to scoot over, wrap his arms around the man and hold him tight. Because he knew how he must be feeling. That the experience of a few hours ago must've shaken him up in some way, otherwise he wouldn't have nightmares about it ...

Then there was his mind. Telling him that he had to keep his distance from this kind of thing. That it was dangerous to let his feelings take control like this. That feelings meant death and torture and that he made himself vulnerable to someone else … to **Samuel Campbell**.

„Nooo ..." it was hoarse and silent, „Where are you? Where are you …."

Dean rose both eyebrows as he listened to the first halfway distinct words that fell from Sam's lips.

„Please …. _please_ … Now would be the right time ..." The hunter begged, he literally BEGGED. „I can't … I can't, Dean. Please … please don't … don't let it happen … where are you?"

The demon had to swallow hard. He knew that nothing had happened … as much as you could say that getting close to being raped by a damn freaking demon was nothing. But the possibility that it COULD HAVE happened and living with the thought of it … that there was still someone stronger than you, who'd do whatever he wanted to you … THAT had to be as bad.

Specially when you were as trained as the hunter was.

„It's okay, Sam," Dean whispered and narrowed tentatively, „I came. I came and I killed them." He inched closer towards the mess under the comforter. „You don't have to be afraid of something like that … you're a damn freaking hunter." Okay, that one wasn't that good high likely, but Sam wasn't understanding him anyway, was he? … at least he hoped so. „A week or two and you're gonna get past this."_ … whatever it was._

He had to give himself a violent shove towards revealing himself, when Dean eased one of his arms under Sam's shoulders and pulled him closer into a hug. Slowly adjusting to the way he was actually holding the hunter, Dean started to ease into it a bit more. It didn't feel as alien as it probably should have.

The demon turned Sam over in his embrace, so that his back was flush against his chest and started to rub gentle circles into the man's belly through the thin fabric of his shirt.

„It's going to be okay, Sam. You will see. The bruises will fade and the lacerations will heal soon. There won't be any evidence left of what happened. And if you can't carry that weight, I can take it away. There sure as hell's a spell or something," he told him quietly.

Dean even dared to nuzzle with his nose into that ridiculous mop of dark hair and breathed in the man's scent.

Soon, the hunter seemed to calm down and his breathing evened out. He eventually stopped begging for help.

Sam had sounded lost … and afraid. A side of the hunter he had never thought he'd see. The guy was a man. A damn freaking MAN, with muscles and an attitude that wouldn't let anyone think that he could be vulnerable. Not like this at least.

And here he was. Holding a giant guy in his arms, soothing him … something ridiculous Dean Winchester had never done before – at least not that he could remember.

* * *

Dean didn't dare to fall asleep. Not that he had to anyway.

Instead he kept holding the man, feeling waves of tremors running through the well defined body of the hunter and listened to his breathing. Whenever the tremors seemed to increase, he drew circles into the man's belly until it was over again.

The demon would never admit it to himself … but he liked this. He liked holding Sam and giving him something he had never given anyone before.

The night carried on. So did the early morning and late afternoon. And Sam kept on sleeping through all of it. He didn't notice Carl and Ben talking on the other side of the door, discussing if it was wise to check on them. He didn't hear the rattling of the maid's cart as she pushed it down the corridor.

Sam started to stir soon. He was shifting slightly and made tiny noises deep down from his throat whenever he swallowed past the swollen part of it.

Dean blew out a long breath, thinking about how to get away from the man before he'd wake up and break his nose for invading his personal space. Not that he was afraid of the pain. He was more worried of what it'd look like …

The demon was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't notice Sam waking up.

First it felt weird for Sam. He didn't know where he was and what happened that made him feel sore and hurting. Then – slowly – the memories of last night started to come back to him and he groaned. Nope, definitely not something he wanted to remember …

Then there were arms around him. One under his neck and one loosely thrown over his waist, a flat palm resting over his navel and stomach. He drew in a deep, slow breath to fill his lungs and exhaled slowly.

He was pretty sure that if the arms belonged to the demon from the alley, that this had to be a bad sense of afterlife. There was no way this guy had let him survive and lay him on a bed for a cuddling session. No way.

He felt the warmth of a body behind him, pressed up against the length of his back.  
Sam shifted a bit and closed his eyes again.

He couldn't care less at the moment. But he needed to know with whom he was with – for his soul's sake.

Sam shifted and tried to roll on his back, but was greeted with a low, disapproving rumbling noise from behind him.

„Dean?", he croaked out – very silent and barely hearable.

He couldn't even tell if that was his own voice at the moment, as it sounded utterly unfamiliar to himself.

„Mhm." Might as well take what he'd get. Even when it was a broken nose. „How's your throat?"  
Sam wanted to answer „sore", but there was no voice, just his moving lips.

„Not so good I guess." The demon's voice was husky, even when he hadn't slept.

Sam shook his head – which also hurt.

„At least I don't have to listen to your bitching," he said jokingly, but came out a little bit more serious than he had intended it to sound.

Sam shoved his elbow backwards, in an attempt to hit the demon in the ribs, but the damn comforter was in the way.

Dean chuckled. „Guess I can let you go?"

The hunter didn't answer instantly. He seemed to overthink the question, before he nodded.

The demon let go of him and inched back a bit, just enough so that they weren't SO CLOSE anymore and Sam had some space to roll on his back.

The hunter did and glanced embarrassed at the demon, who eyed him with bright emerald-green eyes.

„You gotta drink." Dean reached over Sam for the glass of water on the nightstand.

Sam just nodded and inched back slowly, until he was sitting up halfway and took the glass with shaky hands. Ever so carefully he took a couple of sips before he put it back on the nightstand and laid back down.

He gave the demon a quizzical look.

„We're still in the club." Dean said calmly. „Carl and Ben gave us one of the rooms." He glanced at the glass. „You gotta drink some more, Sam."

The hunter glared at him.

„For once – do as I say." Dean sounded close to begging.

He earned an eye roll from the hunter, but Sam tried to get back up nonetheless. Dean sat up a bit and held Sam by his shoulder, so that he wouldn't have to hold up his full weight with one arm while he drank the rest of the water down.

„Guess it's baby food for ya'." Dean smirked, somehow not so happy that he wouldn't get a cocky retort.

Though, instead he earned a bitchface.

„Dude … stop that … you're makin' me all tingly when you look at me like that." The demon shifted a bit, but didn't let go of Sam's shoulder. Instead he pulled him a little closer, before he led Sam back down.

The hunter couldn't protest. He didn't want to protest. He kind of liked the bodily contact he had to this man. Sure he was a jerk and cocky and a bastard, but he also had a soft spot – somewhere deep down – for sure.

Sam rolled over on his right side, desperate to get into a more comfortable position for his head and neck. When he felt the demon pulling his arm back, which he had resting around Sam's waist, he suppressed a disapproving moan. Not just because it would hurt, also because of the loss of closeness …

Dean eyed the hunter for a while. „Something similar happened to you before, didn't it?" he asked quietly after a long while.

The hunter's form tensed, and Dean watched the muscles in Sam's neck work. He felt the way he shifted, suddenly uncomfortable.

„You would've fought against him if you wouldn't have been … shocked." He didn't use the word _afraid_, because he knew that Sam wasn't – or maybe he was, or had been and he just didn't want to point it out. „But you didn't fight it. And that's ..." He felt the hunter shift again, inching away from him slightly. „... that's okay, you know? I mean, it's not okay, but I do understand it." Dean huffed out a breath and rolled his eyes at himself. „I'm not good at stuff like this. But … it's okay, you know? If you wanna break down and cry your heart out, it's okay. I won't tease you about it."

Sam sniffed. His eyes were growing watery without him wanting it.

Dean sucked in his lower lip. He wasn't good in heart-to-heart moments. Though he felt as if it was important that the hunter knew that he wouldn't tease him. He laid his hand on Sam's bicep, but the hunter flinched away from the touch.

Sam couldn't stop the full-body-shiver that cursed through his body then. He couldn't stop himself from NOT flinching away from the man's touch, even if he felt the need of physical contact right now.

The demon pulled his hand back and sighed deeply. „Thought we could get some caffeine into us and hit the road ..." He watched the man beside him and saw him nod jerkily.

…_. to be continued_


	14. Chapter 14 On The Road Again

_Thanks to my lovely beta: GOTHPANDAOTAKU_

* * *

**Obsidian ~ Raise A Little Hell**

**The Road So Far:**

Sam sniffed. His eyes were growing watery without him wanting it.

_Dean sucked his lower lip in. He wasn't good in heart-to-heart moments. Though he felt as if it was important that the hunter knew that he wouldn't tease him. He laid his hand on Sam's bicep, but the hunter flinched away from the touch._

_Sam couldn't stop the full-body-shiver that coursed through his entire form. He couldn't stop himself from NOT flinching away from the man's touch, even if he felt the need for physical contact right now._

_The demon pulled his hand back and sighed deeply. „Thought we could get some caffeine into us and hit the road ..." He watched the man beside him and saw him nod jerkily._

* * *

**Chapter 14 ~ On The Road Again**

Even though Carl and Ben had suggested to the both of them to stay a bit longer once again, Dean and Sam decided to leave the town behind and get some distance between themselves and the club. It wouldn't do any good if they would still be there in case demons would come looking for them. Well, truth being told, it wasn't any good for Carl and Ben either way. Though, if Sam and Dean would leave enough evidence and a comprehensible false trail for the demons to follow, they MAYBE wouldn't try to get a drop on the couple.

So Dean went to get the Impala, while Sam slurped warm coffee at the bar. The owner stayed at the hunter's side (as if he needed protection), until the Winchester came back. They then headed to the motel, grabbed their belongings and were back on the road after checking out half an hour later.

While Dean drove, Sam sat curled up against the passenger's door with his eyes closed.

He could tell that the hunter wasn't sleeping. He could also tell that ever since what happened between them just a couple of hours ago that Sam was very silent and avoided eye contact with the demon. Okay, this wasn't that weird after what had happened last night – except … it WAS weird.

Sam seemed upset. Which wasn't atypical either, but Dean just couldn't stand it – because of some unknown reason. Okay, he maybe knew why he couldn't stand it, but thinking about it would make things even worse …

What was also weird was the fact that Sam hadn't asked even ONCE where they were heading. Usually he was a total control freak as if he didn't trust the demon (no matter how much time they had spent together already) and asked everything possible, until he knew the smallest detail …

Dean stole glances at the younger man every now and then, who kept his eyes shut and his breathing even. Though Sam felt Dean Winchester's occasional stare on him like no one else's.

„Stop starin' at me.", Sam muttered hoarsely.

Dean stole another glance at the man. „'m not starin'. I'm driving."

„I'm fine, Dean.", he croaked out in a raspy voice. „Just stop it, would you?"

„Can't.", was all the demon said. „How's your throat?"

„Fine.", he answered.

„You don't look fine.", Dean pointed out quietly.

„Where are we heading?" Sam needed to change the topic, before he lost the last piece of self-control he had left and would start to cry.

Dean could hear it in the man's voice, that he'd break down. Right here beside him, if he wouldn't stop bothering him with questions about his wellbeing.

Dean sighed deeply and floored the accelerator. „I know where we can hole up for a week … or two.", he said calmly. „Until you're better."

Sam frowned. He was tempted to look over at the demon, but if he did, the man would look at him too and see tears threatening to well up in his eyes. So he stayed as he was, the muscles in his jaw working.

„We don't need to.", the hunter muttered.

„Yeah, I know. You're fine.", Dean gave back, sounding a bit pissed. „We're on the road, not taking a break ever since we left Bobby's. I'm in for some downtime and so are you. Besides … I think that we should keep it low, overthink things before we march into the next trap like some total idiots, Sam."

The demon was right. The last hunt had gone south without them even noticing. Neither of them had figured out that there were demons around. Nor did they know how it was possible, that they were able to hide from Dean's demonic senses.

„You think it was a spell?", Sam's voice was growing thin.

Dean shrugged, gripping the steering wheel tighter, so that his knuckles turned white. „I don't know. But I think we should figure it out, before we try to nail down another one of them." He cleared his throat. „And you're keepin' your mouth shut until we're at Pastor Jim' 're savin' your voice, Sam."

The hunter didn't argue about that. He'd rather keep to himself anyway at the moment. If they weren't stuck in this car, he'd try to have some quality time on his own.

* * *

They stopped at a diner later that day. Sam was dressed in a black woolen turtleneck pullover to hide his bruised neck, and let his hair fall into his face, so that at least the bruise on his forehead wasn't that visible for everyone in the crowded dinner.

Usually he didn't care about things like that … but this was different – the bruises were there because of reasons other than a bar fight, or a wendigo, or a poltergeist. The bruises were there because someone had tried to get into his pants without his permission and because he didn't have the balls to fight the guy off.

Just like back then …

Sam let Dean take the lead into the diner. Let the demon pick the table. The hunter never looked up.

Dean wondered, if Sam would act like that for a while longer. He wasn't used to having him follow like a blind, beaten up puppy … Nor did it feel right to him. He liked that sassy giant moose-bitch and not whatever he was right now.

Besides that, he hated the way people stared at the both of them as they entered the diner and slid into the booth opposite of each other at the table in the very back. Dean wasn't the guy who hid away. Nor had he thought that Sam was like that … but obviously last night had triggered something inside the man that made him uneasy and uncomfortable.

The waitress walked up to their table with a wary expression on her face. She tugged a strand of black hair behind her ears and brushed over the small baby-blue apron, before she pulled a notepad from the hidden pocket of her dark-green dress.

For once, the demon hadn't eyes for the tight dress, nor the long legs or even those big bambi-like eyes. His concern was all directed towards the giant hunter, who was actually trying to make himself small enough to vanish under the damn table.

Dean instantly sensed her distress though, which she managed to hide like a pro under a facade of kindness.

„What can I get you, gentlemen?", she asked with a tight smile, as her gaze darted from Dean to Sam and back at Dean.

„Coke and the menu please." Dean gave her a charming smile, which obviously didn't do its work this time. Instead she gave him a weird look before she tore her attention towards Sam, who hadn't seemed to listen. „What can I get you, hon?" Her smile definitely changed into something warm and sympathetic.

Sam looked up at her and gave her a friendly smile. „Coke light, Miss. - Thank you." He hated how thin and raspy his voice sounded.

Her eyes narrowed and her smile faded as she spotted the hunter's bruised cheekbone. His collar had moved a bit when he had risen his head, so that there was a thin line of the bruising around his neck visible.

Before she turned around to make her way back behind the counter and get them their drinks, she gave Dean a judging glance.

Dean huffed out a breath, as she had vanished and looked over at Sam, who was staring out the window now.

„She thinks I did this to you, Sam," he said, offended. „What a bitch." He didn't just act as if he was pissed. He truly was pissed and upset … and angry.

Sam didn't look at him. He continued to stare out the window. „Nah … don't think so."

„You didn't see the look on her face, boy.", Dean retorted, „She was about to slap me in the face ..."

Sam looked over at him with big innocent eyes and a blank expression on his face. „I'm gonna set it right, 'kay?"

Dean gave him a weird look.

The waitress was right back at the same moment, with their cokes and two menus. While she more or less glared at Dean, she gave Sam a warm smile.

Sam was in for some warm soup, while Dean ordered a Bacon Cheese Burger with fries and extra onions.

When they were done eating and each of them ordered coffee, the waitress had a big slice of cheesecake on a plate, which she placed in front of Sam. „On the house, hon.", she said warmly, „It's soft, so you don't have to chew it … Anna's makin' the softest cheesecakes in this state."

This time she didn't even bother to look at Dean before she left.

„I'm gonna go the bathroom.", Dean announced grumpily. „I think I'm gonna get sick." The rest of what he mumbled was an incoherent mess and surely not meant for anyone to hear. Not even Sam.

Sam gave him a nod. „I'm gonna talk to her, Dean."

„Nah … leave it.", he muttered as he sneaked out of the booth. „We're out here in half an hour tops anyway."

Sam gave him an embarrassed look and a tight nod.

As soon as Dean was gone and had disappeared on the other side of the diner where the toilets were, the waitress slipped in where Dean had just sat. Sam looked up, surprised.

She locked her gaze with him, wearing a serious expression. „You don't have to leave with him, boy," she whispered, as she bowed forward over the table. „It's not healthy, even if you think you're depending on him – there are other ways. Jonathan and James gonna make him leave without ya'." She nodded towards the bar and Sam followed her motion with his look, spotting two giant men wearing cowboy-like clothes there, who gazed towards him at the very moment.

This could go south if he didn't talk this woman in her mid-forties out of it.

Sam's eyebrows furrowed. He was so not in the mood for this shit, though he felt a warm feeling spreading in his gut and felt his face growing all warm and his cheeks tingly with embarrassment.

He looked confused at the woman and blinked at her. „It's okay, Ma'am," he said, trying to hide his embarrassment behind a warm smile.

„No it's not," she barked out, obviously a little bit louder than she meant to.

A couple of people were looking into their direction now.

Sam didn't even have a chance to say something before she continued. „It's not okay, hon. - Relationships like THAT are never going to be okay. No matter how bad you want it. It's goin' to get worse … trust me. I've seen it already. It's going to kill you. HE'S going to kill you ..."

Sam so wished he didn't have to strain his vocal-cords. „No ma'am. - It's a misunderstanding … Dean's … he's …" _… my demonic partner, friend, guardian … _„He's a friend. He'd never do that." Sam's voice failed and he cleared his throat gingerly. „I was jumped last night ..."

She watched him closely, trying to figure out if he was telling the truth. Then her look fell on the bruising around the hunter's neck and her eyes narrowed once again.

„I got jumped. Honestly. Dean got there in time to … he saved me." The hunter leaned back a bit, sucking in a deep breath – at least as deep as he could.

He was a bull of a man. - Did he really look THAT vulnerable or weak? „Do I look as if I can't fight for myself, lady?" Sam kept his voice soft and calm while he spoke.

„Got nothing to do with strength, boy. Some people know how to turn others into submissive pets," she gave back, with a look that went straight to Sam's soul, making him shudder.

„Is there a problem, Miss?" Dean was suddenly standing beside the table.

Neither of them had noticed him.

She looked up at him, taking in the demon's face with narrowed eyes. Then she looked back at Sam. The waitress obviously didn't quite believe him.

„No, _Dean_.", she said, pursing her lips. „I'm gonna tell you one thing, boy: You don't hurt people you love." With that she stood up and gave him THAT look. Then she looked at Sam and gave him a just-one-word-and-the-J-brothers-are-gonna-take-care-of-your-problem look.

Nope, she hadn't believed a single word he had said.

Dean gave her a surprised stare, which pretty fast turned pissed. He thrust his jaw forward. „Holy shit, lady. - He got jumped, damn it." Nope, Dean Winchester wasn't able to keep his temper under control. Not in this case. „Jumped!" He turned around and let his gaze sweep through the room. „He got jumped, damn it!"

There were dozens of pairs of eyes on him and then on Sam, who seemed to try to make himself smaller.

Dean swallowed and looked back down at Sam. „C'mon. We're leaving this shithole of a diner." He pulled a few bills from his pocket and threw them on the table without counting. He then took Sam's hand in his – way gentler than anyone had probably thought he would – and pulled him up.

Curious glances followed them until they were out of the diner and settled in the car.

„'m sorry.", Sam muttered. „I tried to explain it to her … but ..:"

Dean rose an eyebrow as he inserted the key. „She didn't believe you, huh?" He chuckled nervously. „I wouldn't have believed you either." He glanced at the thin line of the bruise which stood out under the collar of Sam's pullover. „Lets get out of here before someone thinks he's gotta save you from me. Next time we're gettin' something to go."

Sam gave him a weak smile. „Sure. Yeah."

* * *

They didn't stop again until the late afternoon at a gas station to fill up the Impala's tank and to get something to eat.

Dean wanted Sam to leave the car and get inside so he could choose something on his own. But the hunter refused to leave the vehicle. He said he'd rather stay somewhere inside as long as he looked the way he did.

The demon grabbed some Mars and Peanut Butter Cups and corn-dogs. He also got some of that rabit-food Sam loved so much.

Though the hunter didn't touch any of it. He just stared out of the window and watched the scenery flying by.

An hour later they finally arrived in front of a church in the middle of Lewiston, on the border between Idaho and Washington.

The sun was already setting over the town and diving the white old church into reddish and yellowish light.

„We're here.", Dean said and looked over at Sam who had been dozing off at some points during their drive, only to startle awake just minutes later again.

„A church?", he croaked out, as his eyes fluttered open and his attention got drawn towards the building before them. „A pastor?"

Dean smiled. „Yeah. Pastor Jim. Called him half an hour ago, he's waitin' for us."

Could it truly be, that a demon had more friends than him? Sure, Sam had saved a whole lot of people and knew a hand full of hunters. But neither of them was worth his trust.

„A pastor?", Sam asked again, just to be sure.

„Hey, I got my friends, you have yours." The demon smirked now. „Lets get inside."

With a snort, Sam shifted and opened his door, taking a moment to take a few deep breaths of fresh cool air before he got to his feet. When he slammed his door shut and went over to the trunk, a white-haired man in a priest's gown appeared on top of the stairs, his hands folded in front of him.

Dean locked the car and led Sam upstairs towards the older man.

The pastor enveloped Dean Winchester in a tight manly hug. „Good to see you alive, Dean."

„You too," the demon hugged back.

The two of them parted and the priest took a step back to eye the demon's company. „You have to be Samuel Campbell.", the pastor said smiling, „Heard a lot about you already. I'm Jim."

Sam gave him a short nod and a friendly smile.

„Okay. I've got a room ready for the both of you," the old man said and waved them inside the church. „It's a bit small, but I think it'll do. I'm not used to let people sleep here … but I figured I can make an exception for the both of you."

The both men followed the priest through the church and through a door at the back of the altar, where the man's private rooms were. By the looks of it, it was a generously arranged apartment.

„You both get settled while I get dinner ready." The pastor cleared his throat, as he opened the third door to their left in a corridor. „I hope chinese takeout is okay?"

Dean grinned at the man. „Yeah, sure. Whatever you have for us is fine."

The priest watched the demon for a moment longer, before he looked over at Sam. „I'm going to check on your injury before we eat, son." His eyes narrowed at the hunter's neck as if he was able to look through the collar of his pullover.

Sam gave him a curious nod and looked over at Dean, wondering if he had told the man something about what had happened the night before.

„Thanks," the hunter said softly.

„Nothing to thank me for, boy. Dean Winchester's friends are my friends." Jim pursed his lips as his gaze wandered over to the demon, who looked aside shyly.

Then he left, letting them know that the takeout would be delivered soon.

„You told him?" He sounded betrayed. Sam sat down on the bed that was on the left side of the room, shoved against the wall.

Dean dropped his duffel on the bed that was up against the right wall. „I told him that you got hurt and that you won't let me take you to a hospital. I also told him about our attempts to get a drop on a high rank demon. But NO. I didn't tell him about what happened in the alley with the black eyed couple." he didn't look at Sam. „But Sam..." Now he turned around and watched Sam nervously wringing his fingers and hands. „You gotta need someone to talk to ..."

„I don't know what I should talk about," Sam muttered, staring at the space in between his feet.

It wasn't Dean's place to urge someone to talk about their problems or for heart to hearts. He usually didn't bother other people about things. When they didn't want to, they didn't need to.

But this was different. Because it was _Sam_. And somehow THAT was important.

It hadn't even been twenty-four hours since the demons nearly killed the hunter, but … Dean thought, whatever happened next, that Sam simply NEEDED to talk about it – to someone. He completely understood if it wasn't him he wanted to talk to. But maybe he would talk to Jim. After all he was a priest. Someone humans trusted.

Dean sighed. When the hell had he turned into a fluffy cotton-ball with feelings? When had he started to CARE about others (actually mostly about Sam)?

* * *

They headed into the room down the corridor that turned out to be the kitchen. They found the table already laid with boxes of chinese food There were also three different plastic cups, ice tea, water and coke and cheese cake.

Sam hesitated for a moment, before he followed Dean silently to the table, spotting the pastor in his civilian clothes at the sink.

The man turned around and headed towards them. „Sit down.", he said, wearing a friendly smile on his lips, and Sam wondered if priests could ever NOT smile. „Unless you wanna stand while you're eating."

Dean was the first one to sit down, shortly followed by Sam. The demon behaved as if he was at _home_ … just like at Bobby's. Which again, made Sam think about the past weeks in which he had been with Dean Winchester. Despite his black eyes and his powers, he wasn't that different from humans. His cocky attitude, the giant amount of self-esteem and his will to torture whatever stood in between him and what he wanted wasn't that different from a hand full of humans either …

There wasn't so much of a demon inside the man as he actually thought. And besides that … Dean was handsome and had those lovely dimples whenever he smiled. It wasn't just that though. It seemed like everything fit perfectly together. His bowlegs, his butt, the green of his eyes and his always perfectly styled hair whenever he emerged from the bathroom.

He even had friends … _human_ friends. Not something Sam Campbell could say about himself. He didn't really call anyone his FRIEND. High likely, Dean and Bobby were the only ones that came close to it. Though, his feelings for the demon had a nuance of something MORE.

„So … take whatever you want, boys," the pastor rose Sam from his thoughts. „There's also soup in those cups."

Sam gave him a thankful nod and reached for one of them, while the other went for the solids.

When it seemed like it was all done, Sam rose and wanted to go for the empty bags to carry them back into the kitchen, but the pastor stopped him with a gesture of his hand. „Nah, it's fine, Sam. Let them be." He smiled at him. „I'd rather like to have a look at your ..." He pointed at his own throat, but fixed Sam's gaze over the distance.

The pastor walked around the table and kneeled down. Before he reached for the man's collar, he looked up at him, searching the nonverbal permission to touch him.

Sam gave him a short nod and lifted his jaw slowly.

„I was working on the battlefield, you know?" he started to explain. „So I've some experience ..." He hissed as he pulled the collar down and took in the broad bruise. „That bastard got you good."

Sam made an approving sound.

„Any trouble with breathing properly?" the pastor asked, as he traced feather-light over the bruise.

The hunter nodded slightly.

Dean's eyes narrowed. He hadn't mentioned anything … though he didn't need to anyway, since he had been able to hear it.

„What about swallowing? Rather liquids than solid food, huh?" Jim let go of the collar and stood back up with a grimace on his face.

Sam nodded again.

„Guess it's gonna last two weeks or so until the swelling's gone completely." Jim sniffed and went back to his chair. „So ..." His gaze darted towards Dean, „... you both are working together?"

„Kind of," Sam answered raspy before the demon could answer.

„Actually … I kidnapped him to get … you know ..." Dean stole a shy glance at Sam. „... the ritual done."

The priest pulled a grimace again. „I take it … you couldn't do it?"

„It didn't work," Dean corrected him, „Got my hands on a different one … it … just didn't work. Well then there were demons ..."

„... And Dean stuffing a cursed coin in me," Sam continued, annoyed.

„How often do I need to say that I'm sorry?" The demon was obviously offended. He looked at the Campbell reproachfully. „Anyways ..." He looked back at Jim, „Alistair tracked us down and we had to get out … and ended up at the Salvage. Now we're trying to figure out where Alistair is and … and how to stop him."

„You mean: Kill him, huh?", Jim leaned back with a heavy sigh.

Dean and Sam nodded in union.

„We just didn't think that our last job could be a trap …" He nodded towards Sam. „Was touch and go … Now we're laying low. Diving under for a week or two, gettin' our shit together and try to figure out how those bastards were able to hide from me." _… and most of all, letting Sam heal up._

„Good idea." His gaze flickered towards Sam, who seemed to prefer to watch the pattern on the table and then looked back at Dean. „You know … you both can stay here as long as you want."

Dean gave him a weak smile. „Thanks, man."

„You know you're welcome." The priest looked back at the hunter, watching him with a lingering expression on his face.

Sam shoved his chair back a bit and rose. „Thanks for dinner and checking on me," he whispered, „If it's okay, I'd like to go to sleep," he shared a short glance with the pastor and one with Dean.

„Good night, Sammy," Dean smiled at him warmly.

Sam smiled back affectionately, mouthing „have fun".

„We'll do.", the demon said and watched Sam leave the kitchen, before he turned his attention back to the pastor.

Jim ripped his gaze away from the threshold where Sam had just disappeared and gazed at the demon, who was about to get himself a second piece of cheesecake. „So ...", he started hesitantly, „... you both are partners?" He pursed his lips, watching Dean's features closely as if he was waiting for a hint of something special.

Dean wiggled with his head to the left and right. „Kind of … yeah."

„You're different from the last time I had the pleasure to see you, son." The pastor sounded as if he was waiting for Dean to spill. „You're … more _social_."

Dean huffed out a laugh, before he took a fork full of cake into his mouth. „'m not."

The priest's lips twitched. „You seem more relaxed, more … of _everything_ ..." He rose an eyebrow at the man. „He seems to do you good. - You like him ..." The pastor still didn't seem to be able to point his finger on what was different, or what had changed the demon's behaviour. „You like him very much … don't you?"  
Dean swallowed the bite of cake down and put the plate aside, before he looked up at the man, with slightly flushed cheeks (not that the demon ever blushed in his life). That the father had pushed one of the right buttons was clearly visible on the demon's face anyway.

„Why would you ask things like that, Jim?" Dean's eyes narrowed, his forehead creased.

Pastor Jim smirked a bit now. „Because … I think you should tell him. The way he looks at you … I think it's a bit more than just being _buddies_."

„C'mon, Jim, don't start that know exactly that I can't have such a thing.", Dean reached for his plate again and placed it in his lap. „I'm a freaking demon. I do not LIKE things – Above all, not a human THING." He took another fork full of cake. „I know what you tried with Jeremiah back then. Leave it."

„But this man knows what and who you are and he hasn't run from you. He's still there," Pastor Jim interfered.

„Because he has no other choice. Because Alistair's after him. That's why he's here. And see what it nearly cost him." He nodded towards the door frame.

„When you called me two weeks ago and asked me to watch out for demon activities around here, you also told me, that Sam Campbell offered to join you. Wouldn't he have been safer at Bobby's?" The pastor shifted slightly and leaned forward, bracing his elbows onto the kitchen table. „You both are sharing your motel-rooms. You're living in each other's pockets ..."

Dean glared at him. „Because we can't afford to rent two different rooms. Well … we can, but we don't want to. We're saving money that way. And it's SAFER. There's nothing going on between me and the hunter. We don't have sex – in plain english - if that's what you wanna know."

The pastor chuckled and grinned at him. „I'm not talkin' about sex, son. - I'm talkin' about falling in love."

„Awww, shut up." Dean put the plate back on the table and stuck the fork into it as if he was disgusted. He pulled a grimace and shook his head as if he had seen, heard or thought about something gross. „There's no such think like love. And you. YOU shouldn't take the word SEX into your mouth EVER. You're a damn freakin' priest."

„Well, but when I was younger I did have sex with a lot of women before I became married to the church." He smiled reassuringly.

„Dude stop. Don't talk about THAT with me." Dean shook his head. „Besides ..." A cocky smirk was growing on his lips, „You're married to god now, aren't you? … Does that make you gay?"

The priest frowned at him confused. It didn't seem as if he had ever thought like that about his presbyterate.

„I'm pretty tired ..." Pastor Jim rose and cleared his throat gingerly. „Good night, Dean."

„Aww, c'mon! Now that our conversation would get interesting, you're leaving me all alone with my naughty thoughts?" Dean's grin was remarkably smug.

„Good night, son," the priest said once again. „I'm going to clean up tomorrow."

Dean smiled triumphantly and clicked with his tongue. **Won**.

He sat there for a long while, staring at the impaled piece of cake, thinking about the man's words. The priest was kind of right. He CARED about the hunter. He LIKED the hunter. Hell, he even thought how it would be to have damn freaking hot sex with Sam Campbell. But what confused him about that was, that he didn't just want to have sex with him. He wanted to feel his skin, how his lips felt. He also wanted to just be close to Sam and hold him (Just holding. Never cuddling. No way.). Dean wanted to make him smile and laugh and to be happy. He wanted so many things – and sex was one of the lesser ones (which was pretty disturbing, since he was a damn freaking womanizer and LOVED to have sex).

Dean glanced at his watch. It was short before midnight already, so he decided that he'd get some sleep too. A little nap after THAT MUCH food would be pleasant. Maybe even taking a long hot shower before that.

So he turned the lights in the kitchen off and headed through the dark corridor towards his and Sam's room. He stopped shortly in front of it and frowned. The lights inside were still on …

He shrugged the fact that the hunter had to be still awake off and went inside, to find both beds empty. Sam's duffel was on the foot-end of the other bed and he could hear the shower through the bathroom door which was close to his left.

The demon's frown deepened, as he listened more closely and heard – besides water hitting the tiles – hiccups and sobs from the other side of the door.

„Sam?" Dean asked tentatively and walked up at the door, laying his flat palm on the wood. „You in there?"

There was no answer. High likely he wasn't hearing him through the noise of the water spray.

„Sam?!" he called out a bit louder. „You okay?!"

Dean sucked in his lower lip and thrust his jaw forward, thinking hard for a moment. He knew the hunter loved his dignity more than anything else. He'd hate it, if Dean would get inside while he was – naked – under the shower.

And though …

Dean Winchester didn't like what he heard from the outside. He didn't like to hear Sam cry … it sounded sad and desperate … then again … humans often cried because they were sad or desperate …

He laid his hand on the door-handle and took a deep inhale, before he pushed it down …

… _to be continued_


	15. Chapter 15 The Other Shoe Drops

first off:** THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR AMAZINGLY AWESOME REVIEWS, FAVORITING & FOLLOWING!**

**Your Reviews are keepin' me goin', Folks! :)**

**thank you to my lovely beta: GOTHPANDAOTAKU**

* * *

**Obsidian ~ Raise A Little Hell**

**The Road So Far:**

_So he turned the lights in the kitchen off and headed through the dark corridor towards his and Sam's room. He stopped shortly in front of it and frowned. The lights inside were still on …_

_He shrugged the fact that the hunter had to be still awake off and went inside, to find both beds empty. Sam's duffel was on the foot of the other bed and he could hear the shower through the bathroom door which was close to his left._

_The demon's frown deepened, as he listened more closely and heard – besides water hitting the tiles – hiccups and sobs from the other side of the door._

„_Sam?" Dean asked tentatively and walked up to the door, laying his flat palm on the wood. „You in there?"_

_There was no answer. High likely he wasn't hearing him through the noise of the water.._

„_Sam?!" he called out a bit louder. „You okay?!"_

_Dean sucked in his lower lip and thrust his jaw forward, thinking hard for a moment. He knew the hunter loved his dignity more than anything else. He'd hate it if Dean would get inside while he was – naked – under the shower._

_But…_

_Dean Winchester didn't like what he heard from the outside. He didn't like to hear Sam cry … it sounded sad and desperate … then again … humans often cried because they were sad or desperate …_

_He laid his hand on the door-handle and took a deep inhale, before he pushed it down …_

* * *

**Chapter 15 ~ The Other Shoe Drops**

Dean took a moment before he leaned against the door, to let it slide open slowly in case Sam was in a compromising situation under the shower. He didn't want to burst the door open and jump into the room, earning a damn punch to his face from the hunter.

The door didn't move. It was locked – from the inside. Something uneasy gripped the demon's heart and made it skip a beat.

"Sam," his voice was more commanding now, "Open the door."

He cursed. "C'mon, man. Unlock the damn door." Dean couldn't hear any signs of movement from the other side. He cursed again, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do. For a short moment he even thought about to turn around and just go to sleep and let the man have his peace.

But he couldn't quite do THAT.

So, instead of ruining Pastor Jim's property, he went over to his duffel and rummaged through it, getting out his lock pick. Dean then hurried up to get the set out and pick the damn freaking lock – which just took a few seconds ... but his instincts were screaming every second counted.

Finally pushing the door open, Dean stopped in his tracks, his face going blank for a long moment, as he spotted the curled up man in the shower stall. His first instinct told him to turn around and not to look.

But he couldn't. He saw the man shiver and shake under the water. He could hear him cry silently.

"Sam?" he asked hesitantly and took a step closer. "You alright?" Of course he was not alright, but he had to ask, didn't he?

Sam didn't move. He had his face buried in between his knees, his arms tightly wrapped around them. He hiccupped again.

Dean frowned and took another step forward. It didn't feel misty or warm in the room. It wasn't the typical warm steamy feeling it should be. He reached inside, turning the water off, hissing as icy drops of water hit his lower arm.

He squat down and laid his hand on Sam's back in between his shoulder blades, feeling the coldness of his skin.

"Sam ... damn it. - Are you freakin' insane?" Dean hurried back outside and snatched the blanket from his own bed, went back inside the bathroom and threw it around Sam's shoulders. He squat down beside the hunter, one hand on his back. "C'mon. Talk to me, man." Dean started to rub Sam's back and shoulders.

The hunter looked up, his eyes red-rimmed, his lips quivering. "Please _go_ ... leave me alone."

Dean swallowed thickly. "Nope. I can't. Not right now." Dean wrapped his arms around Sam, pulled him closer and tugged the hunter's head under his chin. "I think you have to deal with not being alone right now," he whispered.

Dean didn't care that he got soaked. He didn't care that Sam was crying (like a girl actually, but he'd never mention this. Not in that situation). He rubbed the man's arm and held his head gently.

Sam let himself be held. More than that. He leaned into the older man, laid his hand on Dean's chest and closed his eyes, trying to will his hot tears to subside.

The demon buried his fingers in the man's wet hair, massaging his scalp gently. "I'm gonna help you, Sammy, 'kay?" he whispered.

Sam nodded into his chest.

"Good. Lets get you dried off and into bed." Dean placed a tender kiss on the man's head. "That good?"

Sam nodded again. He sniffed and swallowed a sob, as he let himself be helped to his feet, clinging to the wet blanket desperately. Dean kept a hand on Sam, while he snatched towels from the rack. One of them he threw over the man's head and then tugged on the blanket, showing the hunter that he had to let go of it.

Something that was visibly difficult. Though, eventually he let go and took one of the towels to dry himself off.

Dean watched Sam carefully. The man was a shivering, sobbing mess. In a way that hurt him deep down.

"That's good," Dean kept his voice low. He handed him the sweatpants and the hunter pulled them on on shaky legs. "Now c'mon."

He kept his hand in between Sam's shoulder blades as they left the bathroom. Dean didn't say anything when the hunter shuffled towards the demon's bed and crawled onto it. He high likely didn't even notice that it wasn't his. And Dean didn't care.

Instead of occupying the other bed, the Winchester sneaked in behind the hunter without asking and wrapped his arms around him all over again. He brushed over his hair and cheek, before he pulled the comforter from the end of the bed over the both of them.

Dean bit back his snarky comments about Sam being a girl and having to take care of him like a baby. He knew it wouldn't do any good at the moment. Nor did he figure that this was the right place, nor time to try to tease the hunter.

"See?" Dean sniffed. "You know ..." He sighed. This was hard. "I don't know what to say to you ... or to tell you ... so ... maybe if I'm tellin' you things about my past, like a sign of confidence, you might wanna tell me about yours some time ..." He didn't know what he was doing, he just knew he was doing SOMETHING. "Because – honestly – you can't go on like this. It's gonna eat you up from the inside."

Another tremor ran through Sam's body. His sobs subsided a bit.

"I don't know a lot about coping with shit like that ..." Dean really didn't know. This was new for him. The want to help Sam through whatever he was experiencing now, was uncharted territory. "I ... I had a family once, you know? A father and a brother – a _younger_ brother. Man he was a brat ... but I'd have done everything for him." He paused, his features turning sad and he huffed out a breath. "It wasn't easy for either of us. Dad suffered the most I think. He couldn't just accept that I am what I am. First he tied me to a chair, put me through all possible tests he knew. He took me and Adam to an abandoned house, where he kept me in the damn basement for a week. John didn't hurt me – not physically. It was more of the way he looked at me. The mistrust, the fear. Fear for Adam that I'd hurt him. But I was still me." Dean cleared his throat and closed his eyes, pulling Sam a bit closer, feeling his cool skin against his damp clothes. "After a week, he finally let me out of the basement. But he was still wary and wouldn't let me out of his sight. Man, I was damn freakin' nine years old, Sam. And nothing was going to be the same again. It took John YEARS. YEARS to accept me who I was – what I still am. And when it finally looked like we'd get our shit together, Azazel showed up and killed them. In front of my eyes, Sam." Dean's voice broke. He sucked in his lower lip and shook his head slightly. "But it didn't change me into who he thought I would. Nothing of the things he did got me to turn darkside."

The demon felt slight movement and cool fingers intertwine with his, squeezing his hand softly, as if to give him comfort. Sam nestled into the arm that lay under his head and sucked in a shuddering breath.

The hunter seemed calmer now.

Dean squeezed his hand back, and nuzzled with his nose into Sam's hair. "I don't do heart to heart things and chick-flick-moments. I'm not very good in showing that I like someone else either ... but ... I can tell you, that you really grew on me, and ..." Oh shit, he truly was about to say it. "... and that I like to be friends with you ... and ..."_ C'mon Winchester, tell him. _"... and maybe ... maybe some day we could be more than just friends ... when all of this is over ..." Dean knew that this wasn't the right moment to tell him. That after what had happened last night this was high likely the last thing Sam wanted to hear, or think about. But he had to tell him now. NOW or never. Because Dean Winchester wasn't sure if he'd find the balls to say this at a later point.

Sam sniffed. "Why not now?"

Dean frowned. He had awaited a lot, but not a question like this. "Because ...", his voice broke, "... I think you're not ready ... not now."

Sam shifted and turned on his back in the demon's embrace. "Why won't you let me decide that by myself?" He looked the man straight in the eyes, literally falling with his gaze into a sea of emerald and grass.

"Because right now?" he rose both eyebrows, "You're vulnerable and I wouldn't want to take advantage of you."

"What if I'd like you to?" Sam's voice sounded raw and strained and thin. He blinked his long lashes at the older man.

"I wouldn't." Dean gave him a weak smile. "This is the first time I'm doing something like this ... I don't want to screw it up."

"Why not? Ain't like it'd be your first time having sex, would it?" The hunter's eyes narrowed. He needed to know if that would complicate what they had, or if it was something MORE.

Dean tilted his head to the side and shook his head. For a long moment he revealed his true face – his human side. "I did. But I want it to be different with you."

Sam smiled back and then cast his look down. "You know ... you're a lot more human than you think, demon."

It didn't hurt Dean to be called like that – at least not right now. Sam had said it so soft and silent, so non-judgemental, that it sounded more like a lovely nickname, than an insult.

"Shut up." Dean pulled Sam close and rolled him over to his side again, so that he was facing Dean. He nudged the hunter closer and forced the man's head gently against his chest, so he wouldn't see the dumbfounded grin that was growing ridiculously fast all over the demon's face.

Sam grinned into the damp fabric of Dean's shirt. "You're soaked," he muttered.

"It's gonna dry," Dean responded softly. "Not like I'd be able to catch a cold."

"Forgot." Sam's voice was barely audible.

Dean closed his eyes and laid his hand on the back of Sam's head. No matter how ridiculous his hair was for a guy he couldn't take his hands off of it.

Sam's lips started to quiver again and he squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't want to cry. He couldn't anymore. Not now. Not when he was with another guy. Oh god, he had to seem like a girl. Like a giant girl. A giant girl without boobs and a vagina. Man, he was pathetic, wasn't he?

Sam sneaked his upper arm around the demon's waist.

"Let it out, Sammy," Dean whispered into his ear, even when a tiny evil voice whispered to him that he should tell him to shut the fuck up and end him. "It's okay. - I'll take care of you." He smiled a bit now. "At least for now," he added jokingly.

Sam said something into the man's chest.

"What?" Dean pulled back a bit.

"Asshole," Sam repeated.

"Aw, you so gonna pay, Sam. When you don't look like you're going to have a mental breakdown anymore, I'm so gonna make you pay for calling me names."

Dean felt the man smile and his nose rub against his fabric. "Hey, don't mess up my shirt with your snot-nose."

Sam stilled – but did it again anyway.

"You're lucky I'm not beatin' you up already and hurting puppies, Sammy," he said quietly with a smug grin and nuzzled into the younger man's hair with his nose.

It didn't take long for the hunter to doze off – all cozy and halfway warm again ...

* * *

Sam had a fitful sleep and Dean had one hell of a night, his arms full of shifting, moaning and whimpering handsome hunter. The demon had time to think in between dozing off every now and then and jumping high awake whenever Sam stirred.

It wasn't like him to show feelings. - It was all Samuel Campbell's fault. His alone. The man had made him do it. All of it.

And somehow, he wasn't even a bit mad about it.

So yeah, Dean Winchester was kind of okay with anything that may happen. Hell, he even felt weirdly calm about it. Even if it meant to open up to someone else.

Sam slept far into the late morning and when he woke up to the unmistakable noise of rattling dishes on a plate, he instantly looked towards the door.

"Good morning, Sunshine," Dean said cheerily with a happy smile on his lips as he nudged the door to the bedroom shut.

Sam groaned and turned over to have a better look at the demon. All sweatpants, t-shirt and bare feet with a tray in his hands, balancing plates with breakfast, juice and coffee on it.

"'Mornin,'" Sam muttered hoarsely.

"You feelin' any better?" There was something serious in his voice now.

The hunter nodded.

Dean didn't seem to quite believe it. "Thought you might not want to walk down into the kitchen for breakfast, so ..." He rose the tray a bit. "Breakfast in bed?" He crossed the last couple of feet towards the bed where Sam was lying and then sat down on the edge.

Sam nodded with a shy smile.

"Told Jim you're not feelin' well ..." Dean said, eying the waffles on their plates.

Sam scooted aside and backwards, resting his back against the headboard. Dean took his own plate and placed the tray in Sam's lap.

"Thanks," he croaked out, while he eyed the white liquid in his mug curiously.

"Milk and honey for your throat, princess," he said casually.

Sam cocked an eyebrow at the demon. "Deanna." He threw him a bitchface.

"Right back at ya', Sam- my ..." He looked aside and pursed his lips.

Dean took one of the waffles and took a huge bite.

Sam watched him with a soft expression on his face. NOT calling him names wasn't necessary – he still would tease Dean back.

They ate in silence. Sam dipped the waffles into the warm milk with honey and ate them slowly. Dean didn't even chew his properly before swallowing them. The demon watched Sam closely while eating, ravishing the sight of Sam's hazel-colored eyes glistening in the sunlight.

The hunter didn't eat a lot. Swallowing hurt like hell ... Instead he emptied the juice and milk.

The Winchester wasn't quite satisfied but let it slip. So he just put the tray aside and crawled back over Sam and slumped down beside him. "Booked a lazy day at the church," he announced with a satisfied grunt. "With a handsome, obedient hunter by my side ... what else could a demon want more?"

Sam chuckled. "Was there something in your coffee?"

"Besides love potion number nine?" Dean cocked an eyebrow at Sam, his gaze flying down at Sam's bare chest and back up at his face. He licked over his upper lip and bit down on his lower one, his thoughts clearly written all over his face.

"You're ridiculous, you know that?" The hunter scooted down and turned on his side to face Dean. "'m not obedient," he added.

"Yeah, I know ... I know that." Dean's gaze lingered on the man's face for a long time.

"We can't just spend the whole day in bed. We gotta find out ... do some research. - At least." Sam gave Dean THE LOOK. Huge eyes and the slightly pulled up lower lip. It was like the ultimate puppy-dog-eyes-look of doom.

"Yes, we will. But not today. Not tomorrow. Maybe not the day after tomorrow." Dean's lips twitched. "Because ... there's something I really like to research a lot more than some old books and the web." He leaned forward a bit. He had thought about this. He had pictured it in his head. He had practically planned THIS the whole damn morning.

"And ..." Sam's gaze searched the man's face, already knowing what he was about to do, "... That'd be what?"

Dean narrowed a bit, leaned forward, urged Sam back on his back and into the pillow. In the movement, the demon snuck his hand under Sam's neck and threaded it into his ridiculously shaggy hair. He leaned half over Sam now, searching the man's eyes if it truly would be okay – if he wanted this.

"You," he whispered breathlessly, as he crossed the last few inches in between their lips and sealed them together in a tender kiss.

The hunter's eyes fluttered shut, relishing the feel of Dean's soft lips on his. The taste of coffee and sweet waffles on the demon's tongue, as it worked its way into Sam's mouth slowly.

A low groan came from the hunter's throat, as they shared one of the most intimate first moments of closeness. Dean held Sam's head with one hand, while he lowered further down, putting more of his weight on the hunter.

When they parted, their lips were swollen and bruised and wet from kissing. The demon pulled back a bit and then laid down, close at Sam's side, his free hand resting on the man's flat stomach.

"Never thought of kissing a demon ... like THAT." Sam's cheeks were flushed, his eyes sparkling in a million shades in the sunlight.

"Never thought of kissing a hunter LIKE THAT either." Dean grinned – somehow satisfied. And despite his expectation, that this would be more difficult than he had planned, he was surprised. Not just that Sam had let it happen. Also, that he had been able to let go like this.

It seemed so much easier, when he just did it, instead of over-thinking it thousands of times.

"Though ..." Sam blinked his long lashes at the man, "... it was real nice."

Dean huffed out a laugh. "Though? Just NICE?"

Sam's smile turned into a cheeky grin. "Well ... maybe it wasn't just nice ..."

"MAYBE?" Dean kept his eyes locked with the hunter's. "Are you kidding me? I'm the BEST kisser in this damn town. This state. Hell, even of the whole freakin' US." He sniffed and sighed.

Sam chuckled, what pretty much seemed to hurt – at least a bit.

"Hurting much?" The demon's eyes narrowed and if Sam wasn't mistaken, there was a flicker of black mist in his orbs.

Sam shook his head. "Just when I try to laugh ... and swallow ... and talk ...", he explained hoarsely.

"Well, I guess then it's better if you just shut up and listen." Dean leaned back a bit further.

Sam nodded, blowing out a long content breath.

* * *

Dean laid behind Sam on his side, running his hand over the hunter's side gently. He could tell, that Sam was still caught in the fine tendrils of what had happened two nights ago. Somehow the hunter seemed to think that Dean didn't notice. Or he thought he could hide it from him – somehow.

But no. Dean Winchester thought he knew what was going on in the man's head – no matter how strong he seemed on the outside. It wasn't like he thought that Sam Campbell was weak. No. He sure was a strong minded, stubborn bitch with the body of a greek goddess ... and eyes ... oh man, those eyes ...

* * *

The third day after arriving at pastor Jim's church, was the first one when Sam started to do better and talking didn't feel like drawing his vocal cords over a grater. All the warm milk and soft food helped a lot. Besides ... having Dean taking care of him, was a whole lot more calming than he had thought at first.

He wasn't used to letting himself go. Not to sleep in, and doing nothing besides eating, watching TV, cuddling (with a demon) and just hanging around. Neither was he used to giving into someone else, to let someone else take over control.

Currently, Dean was busying himself in the kitchen, while Sam laid sprawled out on the couch in the living room.

Pastor Jim was busy in the church, preparing sunday's mass and visiting the hospital and such things. Things priests used to do ...

Thing was ... Sam didn't just watch TV. Actually, the TV didn't get any attention at all. He and Dean had a discussion earlier today. Sam had asked him about the ritual, and the demon had just told him to forget about it – to drop it. That there wasn't a way without a black bone, to try it again. Besides ... Dean didn't even seem as if he WANTED to try it again.

And Sam Campbell didn't want to just drop it. Instead, he was reading in one of the oldest books of pastor Jim just about that and was searching for the ritual, while he was waiting for a call. Sam had phoned some of his old contacts, who would look out for someone who could possibly own a black bone – among them, Missouri Moseley. A psychic from Kansas.

Further he was thinking about a plan to sneak out of the house without Dean noticing it. Since those black bones were mostly used for black magic, surely some hoodoo-priest, witch or demon could own such a thing. So yeah – he knew about the dangers, but didn't think about giving up just because of that.

The demon had practically forbidden him to even try to get his hands on such a black bone.

And Samuel Campbell didn't give a rat's ass about what Dean Winchester wanted ...

_... to be continued_

* * *

_THANK YOU for still reading and sticking with me & this story :)_

_I'm about to tie everything together in a couple of chapters :)_


	16. Chapter 16 The Black Bone

**THANK YOU to my always awesome beta GOTHPANDAOTAKU**

**THANKS to all the reviewers, favoriters & followers**

* * *

_**Obsidian ~ Raise A Little Hell**_

**The Road So Far:**

_Thing was ... Sam didn't just watch TV. Actually, the TV didn't get any attention at all. He and Dean had a discussion earlier today. Sam had asked him about the ritual, and the demon had just told him to forget about it – to drop it. That there wasn't a way without a black bone, to try it again. Besides ... Dean didn't even seem as if he WANTED to try it again._

_And Sam Campbell didn't want to just drop it. Instead, he was reading in one of the oldest books of pastor Jim just about that and was searching for the ritual, while he was waiting for a call. Sam had phoned some of his old contacts, who would look out for someone who could possibly own a black bone – among them, Missouri Moseley. A psychic from Kansas._

_Further he was thinking about a plan to sneak out of the house without Dean noticing it. Since those black bones were mostly used for black magic, surely some hoodoo-priest, witch or demon could own such a thing. So yeah – he knew about the dangers, but didn't think about giving up just because of that._

_The demon had practically forbidden him to even try to get his hands on such a black bone._

_And Samuel Campbell didn't give a rat's ass about what Dean Winchester wanted ..._

* * *

_**Chapter 16 ~ The Black Bone**_

"Screw you!" Sam yelled furiously.

Dean was surprisingly calm as he sat on his bed, elbows on his knees and his head lowered. "I said, it's too dangerous. Besides ... I want to take out Alistair before we try anything like the ritual again. It's too dangerous to go after him without my powers, Sam. And you know that."

Sam's nostrils flared, his hazel-green orbs were bright with rage. "We can still kill him. - After we've done the ritual," he practically screamed at the other man.

Dean shook his head. He was so eager to keep his temper down, but the hunter was pushing just the right buttons at the moment. He rose his head and looked at Sam, who paced the room impatiently.

"No. We can't. As bad as I want this. As much as I appreciate that you wanna help me ... I can't. WE can't. - That wasn't our plan." He paused, his self-control slowly slipping away. "I WILL NOT go there. Not now. Maybe not ever. Some things should stay as they are." Anger was flooding his green eyes. "We already talked about this. YOU are not going out there to get your hands on a black bone. YOU are not going to a hodoo-priest for a ridiculous trade." Dean's voice was low, but thinly veiled with anger. "WE aren't doing this."

"No!" Sam kicked the edge of his damn bed, which creaked weakly in response. "YOU talked about it, Dean. YOU. - You don't let me have a word in it." He was practically snarling now, his face red with anger. "YOU are deciding for the both of us here. That's nothing I'm going to accept. EVER. Either we're partners or we're not!"

That was it. Enough was enough. "It looks as if you wanna pick a fight with me!", Dean yelled back snarling, "WE talked about it. And I SAID, we wait. Hodoo priests, or witches or whoever are tricky. Their curses even work on ME, Sam. They can curse me, can curse you ... I will NOT risk it." Dean's eyes narrowed.

Sam threw his head back, huffed out a laugh and rolled with his eyes. Without looking at the demon again, he stalked over to his bed, grabbed his jacket and walked towards the door.

"Where do you think you're going?", Dean asked calmer.

Sam turned around to face him one last time. His eyes were watery, his lower lip quivering.

Might as well do it tonight. He didn't need the demon's permission for ANYTHING.

Dean knew what that meant: Sam would go before the demon had a chance to see him cry.

"I love you, you know? Maybe it's stupid to say it now – after such a short time. But I do. And I SAW what was going on inside of you back there in the cabin, when the ritual didn't work. I saw it," the hunter answered quietly, before he turned back towards the bedroom door. "I just didn't know that it wasn't a bad thing you had in mind. If I would've known back then what I know now, I wouldn't have mistrust you, and the spell would have worked. And now that it could work, you don't want me to do it ..." Sam's lips formed into a thin line. "Don't wait up for me." The door slid into the lock and Sam was gone.

Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath, brushing over his face with one hand. "Fantastic," he muttered and sighed heavily.

Sam went straight for the door that led into the church, while he pulled his jacket on. He wiped the single tear from under his eyelid and sniffed. Actually he was feeling bad about causing a fight. He hadn't intended to do it that way. And besides that, the things he had to say, had to be said some time. So why not now? Why not when the hurt was still fresh.

Wasn't he right?

Anyway. That was not what he had in mind right now. Sam had tracked down a demon (via some old spell he had found in one of pastor Jim's books), whom he would visit now. Gladly, he had a duffel hidden at the back entrance of the church, which he pulled out behind the bushes and headed towards the main street.

* * *

Dean tried to clear his mind. So he cooked.

Actually he had never cooked as much as during the past couple of weeks.

But now it felt calming and relaxed him in a weird kind of way.

The chili burnt, so he took the pie from the fridge and a fork from the drawer in the kitchen and slumped down on the couch in the living room with it.

He was thinking about what had made Sam snap. It had been such a good day so far, and then ... then the hunter had to bring up that whole shit about black bones, witches, hodoo-priests and demons. He had to bring up the ritual again and that he wanted to try it. AGAIN.

Didn't he understand, that NOW, when Alistair would try to get a hold of them, it was a dangerous thing to do? They would be exposed and vulnerable without Dean Winchester's demonic powers, wouldn't they?

Sam obviously didn't think about the expansion of what he was talking about and Dean just didn't know how to explain it properly to him.

One of the bigger reasons for Dean not wanting to do the ritual was that he couldn't protect Samuel Campbell anymore. Who was he without his abilities to sense demons, fling stuff through the air and his utterly awesome strength?

Just a human. A vulnerable human. He could get hurt and die ... Which meant that Sam could get hurt and die – at least when it came to the hunt for Alistair and demons in general.

Other than that, he had his PLAN B in the inner side pocket of his leather jacket. A small, liquid, dark red plan B that'd solve everything within a matter of minutes if everything would fail.

Dean glanced at the clock above the TV every couple of minutes. Sam was gone for about an hour now ... It made him uneasy to know that the hunter was out there on his own. Sure, Sam could take care of himself, but nonetheless ...

He pulled his phone from the pocket of his jeans and unlocked it. Dean scrolled through his contacts, until Sam's name (actually Dean had saved him under BITCH. Something he needed to change though.), was marked light-blue and hovered above the call-button with his thumb. He eyed the display for a couple of long moments, but decided otherwise.

Dean put the key-lock back in and put his phone on the small table before him, right beside the half-eaten pie. His gaze darted forth and back between both objects . Eventually, Dean pursed his lips and decided to go for the rest of the pie.

Half an hour later, he was done with the pie, the plate scraped and licked clean.

"Fuck it," he grumbled and sat up, reaching for his phone. Without further thoughts he unlocked it and scrolled through the contacts again and tapped the call-button.

Dean cleared his throat, taking a few deep breaths. He really shouldn't have eaten the whole pie ... not even with a pause of half an hour in between both halves.

"C'mon, baby boy.", he muttered absently, as he didn't hear anything else but the beeps – until it went to voicemail. "Pick up."

* * *

Sam circled the chair, at the outer ring of the devil's trap, once more. The demon – whom he had captured just half an hour before – was still grinning stupidly. The demon's lair wasn't what the hunter usually thought of when it came to where evil would hole up. This apartment was a craphole. Wasted syringes plastered the floor and the furniture didn't look a lot better either. All dirty and filthy and beyond any standards.

Usually demons liked to hole up a someplace more comfortable though – no matter which vessel they were possessing recently.

The hunter eyed the strapped down female as he circled the chair a second time, the tip of his sharp knife blinking up in the dim light of the bulb.

"I KNOW that you know where I can get a black bone," Sam spoke calmly, his eyes dangerously dark. "Maybe I'll even let you go ..."

The dark haired woman chuckled and shook her head, looking up at the giant man with bright blue, amused eyes. "A black bone, huh? What'd a hunter need that for?" She cocked an eyebrow at him.

"None of your business, bitch." Sam stopped behind her and took a step closer, letting the tip of his knife run over the exposed skin of her neck and shoulder. He knew that there was still a human being inside of this body and he didn't want to hurt her – but if he needed to ...

"You know there's just one of them left in the entire United States of fucking America, don't you?", she asked curiously, letting the confusion written all over the hunter's face sink in. The woman sighed and clicked her tongue. "I guess you don't."

"I could exorcise you from her ... I bet the girl knows everything you know ..." Sam bowed down a bit, so that his lips were close to her ears. "Ain't that true?" A lopsided grin was forming on the hunter's lips but his eyes stayed cold.

She tilted her head back slightly and turned it to the side. "She's long gone, hunter. You exorcise me, you got the corpse of a nineteen-year-old girl – nothing more nothing less," she whispered back.

"Ooookay ..." Sam straightened up again, with a smug grin on his lips. He wasn't sure if the demon was telling the truth – but if she did? Well then ... then there was no holding back. "That means I can torture you ... for hours ... without really hurting anything human inside of you, huh?"

The female's features changed, her eyebrows creased and she pursed her lips, waggling her head to the left and right as if she was weighing her possibilities. "Huh ... you're a wicked one, you know that?"  
Sam chuckled. "This way or another ... I'm gettin' answers from you."

He felt the phone in his back pocket vibrate once more. - But Sam ignored it. He didn't have time for a heart-to-heart now. This was more important.

"Lets say it's true, that there's just ONE ... Who owns it and how do I get there?" he asked.

The woman laughed and shook her head. "I'm dead if I tell you, hunter. I'm not THAT stupid."

"Well, you're one of Alistair's closest, aren't you? I'm damn sure you know EVERYTHING about his plans ..." Sam strode around the chair, playing with the knife in his hands. "I want names, coordinates, addresses and everything else that matters about the bone."

* * *

Dean Winchester threw his phone on the couch, continuing to pace the living room in a mixture of nervousness and anger. The third try and Sam still wasn't picking up. A dozen scenarios about what could have happened were running through his mind.

He glanced at the clock again. It was half past nine now and already dark outside. On the spur of the moment, Dean grabbed his leather jacket (which he had in his hands a couple of times before, but put it back on the couch again) and the keys to his baby and left the church.

"Stupid humans," he hissed, as he climbed behind the steering wheel and inserted the key in the ignition.

* * *

"So you're telling me there's just one demon who owns one. No hodoo- or vodoo-priest, no witch in the damn fucking states has one. I want his name and the location, bitch," Sam said coldly.

This wasn't just about saving Dean's soul or hindering Alistair on getting what he wanted anymore. This had become so much bigger during the past hour. This was about saving the damn freaking world and getting to the bone before the demon could.

Sam wiped his knife off on an already blood-soaked rag, which he threw carelessly on the floor.

"Last chance to tell me where I'm gonna find him," he said low – warning.

The possessed woman whimpered. "Screw you, Campbell," she stammered. "I'm dead if I do."

Sam chuckled devilishly. "You're dead either way. You can choose if you want it to be fast, or slow ..."

Her nail-less fingers curled around the arms of the wooden chair. The blood-soaked fabric of her shirt stuck to her breast and torso. Her breathes came out in short little puffs. Her head lolled to the side to get a look at the hunter beside her.

"Where is he?" Sam asked once again and rose the knife a bit, holding the – still sharp – blade beside his face, so that she couldn't do anything but look at it.

"I don't know where Crowley is!" she yelled desperately. "I told you!" She sucked in a couple of deep breaths. "But ...", she started calmer, "... I know where he keeps it, Campbell. I can tell you ..."

Sam's eyes narrowed.

"Just ... you just gotta promise me to end it. Now," she said pleadingly.

He licked over his lower lip and bit down on it, thinking for a long moment. "Deal."

The possessed woman nodded to herself. " Crowley's hiding it well, since ... since it got stolen ... and it's not easy to get to ..." she paused. "Crowley's vessel is old. He owned a couple of buildings. It once was a small museum ... he's keeping the bone there. It's pretty much outside the town."

"Where?" Sam asked. "Spare the rest. I just need the damn address, bitch."

She grinned slyly. "So ... you don't want to know about his blood-thirsty pets, hunter? Five. - Five hellhounds ..." She chuckled. "... You won't get in there. No one gets in there. - No way. Not the best hunter's gonna get in there. You're gonna be dead and ripped to shreds before you can even think about entering his property." She thrust her jaw forward, taking in the blank expression on the hunter's face. "Not even Alistair dares to go there – even it's the only one that's available at the moment. Everyone knows Crowley has one, but no one would ever dare to take it from him." She eyed the hunter for a long moment. When she saw that it didn't seem to matter, she continued: "Cassville, Missouri, it's outside of town when you keep driving on the 248 North East. Just ... just follow the road and turn left after the seventh crossroad. And just when you think I gave you the wrong details you're gonna see it ..." She swallowed thickly and blinked her long lashes at the hunter. "Now do as you promised."

Sam tilted his head to the side. Considering her plea for a moment.

"Fine." He took a step forward and sunk the knife's blade in the woman's chest. He held her head gently and let it loll back, looking in a pair of clearly bright, watery eyes. Eyes that were so not demonic – so different from how the demon had looked at him.

The girl's features changed in the very moment, as a tremor coursed through her relentlessly.

"Thank you," the woman rasped hoarsely.

Sam stared down at her in shock, his heart stopping for a long moment until her eyes fluttered shut and a single tear rolled down her cheek. He treated the corpse with respect then.

Sam cleaned her face up carefully and enveloped her in a thick old sheet he had found one room further down the corridor. He then carried her to the mini-van and stole a glance at his watch. Sam went back up, collected his belongings and cleaned the apartment as good as he could from his fingerprints and other traces, before he returned to the van and drove off. Three miles outside of town, he burned the corpse on a small clearing, waiting until it would be burnt enough, so that no one could ever know who it was.

He went back into town with the van and dropped it off on the parking lot of a mini mart, before he headed inside the mart, bought cherry pie, whipped cream, strawberries and M & Ms. Then he took one of the side-roads towards the church. He wasn't fond of walking all the way there, but he hadn't a lot of a choice here. Someone would've reported the van as stolen for sure and cops would be looking for the vehicle pretty soon, if they weren't already.

Sam counted on taking about half an hour there ... longer if he wasn't going to hurry. Then again ... he needed to get back as soon as possible. To Dean.

He was now gone for about six hours ... longer than he'd intended to be.

Now he had to figure out if he'd tell Dean about what he had found out, or not. If he told the demon, he had to tell him that he had taken on one without backup, which meant that Dean would be beyond pissed at him ...

Sam was so deep in thought, gripping the plastic bag so tight, that his knuckles turned white and that he didn't even notice a black sleek 67' Impala pulling up beside him.

* * *

Dean had spotted him from the other side of the road. It was his fourth turn around the block, hoping that Sam was somewhere around there, as he hadn't gone in one of the bars surrounding the church. The Winchester had checked on every single alley, street and sideroad looking for Sam. And the more time had passed, and the less he thought he'd find the man, the more desperate he became.

It was like a giant heavy rock was falling from his shoulders when he spotted Sam, walking along the curb with a white plastic bag in his left hand and his right one stuffed into the front-pocket of his jeans.

Dean took the first chance to reverse the car and get in the other lane, where he drove right up beside Sam.

The demon was actually a bit shocked that the hunter didn't even notice ... Just when he sped and cranked his window down, Sam seemed to realize that he wasn't on his own anymore.

"Sammy," Dean said, while he drove slowly by his side, one elbow resting in the window.

Sam stopped, eying the man tiredly.

Dean got his baby to a hold and tilted his head to the side.

"C'mon ... get in," was the only thing the demon was able to get out. He had planned on spanking the hunter's butt, on yelling at him, calling him stupid and things ... but that could wait ... until they were at the church again.

For now he was just happy that he had found him.

The corner's of Sam's lips were turned downwards and he looked at the Winchester a bit longer, before he gave him a short nod, walked around the car and settled down in the passenger's seat. He didn't know what to say.

Somehow he was glad that Dean had showed up ... though, the demon looked kind of wrecked, with red rimmed eyes and a bit pale around his nose.

They didn't talk on their drive back to the church.

Dean kept his hands stubbornly on the wheel, even if he wanted to touch Sam, lay his hand on the man's thigh and show him that he wasn't as mad at him as he may think. But he couldn't bring himself to do so. Because he was mad. Hell, he didn't know WHAT he was right now and what he was supposed to do ...

Thirteen minutes later, they pulled up behind the church.

Dean had been thinking about how to show Sam Campbell that it hadn't been okay what he had done, how worried he was ... He had to show him – but how the hell was he supposed to do that damn it?

He had never been in a situation like this ...

Sam had stared out of the window the entire drive, the plastic bag with pie, whipped cream, strawberries and M & Ms on his lap, holding it carefully so not to mash something. It was his screwed up way of saying sorry to Dean. - If the demon would let him. Dean had all rights to be mad at him and pissed.

Sam knew that.

Sam followed Dean with his gaze as he left the car and closed the door gingerly. The hunter stayed where he was, trying to make up his mind about how to start this ... Now that it was over – that he knew what he had wanted to know – he felt beyond bad. He felt like scum.

Actually he should tell Dean ... but he couldn't – not yet.

The demon stopped in front of the door and looked back over his shoulder, since he hadn't heard the passenger's door open. He caught Sam's gaze for a moment, before he turned back at the entrance and pushed the handle down.

Dean had decided to play mad until Sam would apologize. That seemed the only reasonable option here. He wouldn't punch him, nor yell at him. That would make things worse. Because Dean understood why Sam had snapped. He understood, why he had been pissed and mad and had yelled at him. Though he was sure, that the hunter just couldn't understand him.

No matter how bad he wanted to wrench the passenger's door open, grip Sam by the arms, hold him and kiss him until there was no oxygen in his lungs left ... this wasn't the right way. Sam NEEDED to know that running away and not coming back for hours didn't just make Dean mad. It _hurt_ him.

Sam watched the demon disappear behind the door. He looked down into his lap, taking in the plastic bag. It just took two simple words, and Sam was sure that he couldn't say them. Instead he had pie ... maybe it would do it too ...

Maybe he couldn't say that he was sorry, because he wasn't. - At least not in the way he thought he should be. He was sorry, that he caused a discussion which ended up in a fight. But he didn't regret that he had done what he had done.

Sam sighed and closed his eyes for a long moment. He couldn't make the decision yet.

* * *

Dean strode through the corridor towards his and Sam's room, when Jim appeared behind him with a worried expression.

"Where've you boys been?" he asked hoarsely, whipping over the left half of his face. He looked as if he had just woke up. "Where's Sam?"

Dean stopped and turned around, smiling thinly. "He's comin' in a couple of moments ..."

He had barely said it, when Sam appeared with a guilty expression on his face and sorrow in his eyes, the plastic bag holding in both of his hands before him.

Oh god, he felt miserable ...

"Hey, Jim," he said, giving him an mock smile.

The pastor watched the young hunter pass him in curiosity, but wished them a good night nonetheless and went back to his room.

Dean waited up for the hunter, until he was short behind him and then kept on walking towards their room. When the two of them were inside and the door was closed, Dean shed his jacket, sighed deeply and turned around to face Sam, who put the bag on the small table beside the door.

"You know ..." Dean started, even when he didn't know how to, "... I don't want to do this ritual, because it's dangerous." _... and because I've my own plans._ He paused, trying to catch Sam's gaze, but the hunter refused to look at him. "I am pissed, Sam. Maybe it doesn't look like it, because I'm just glad you're back here with me. In one piece. Because – somehow – I can't be mad at you as I should actually be. But I will be tomorrow, or the day after." He cleared his throat. "You gotta understand ... I WANT to do this ritual." _No, he didn't want to try the ritual for a second time. He actually wasn't planning on it and the thing between him and Sam wasn't making things easier on him. _"But not now. I want to do it, when all of this is over. When we can say, that we're safe. That YOU are safe. I am not risking your life because of the state of my soul ..."

Sam sucked in his lower lip, lowering his gaze pensively. He had to tell Dean – he needed to ... just not now. Not yet. Not tonight. He was too spent, too exhausted. All he wanted was to get under the damn shower and the filth washed away.

Sam knew that he had KILLED this girl by torturing the demon. He was a killer. A cold-blooded one. Others might not knew it ... but HE did.

Tomorrow he'd tell Dean ...

"Stop – please.", Sam sounded pleading and tired ... "I ... I can't ... not now. - I tortured a nineteen year old possessed girl in a damn freaking crack-hole, Dean. All I want to do is ... is to get a hot shower and a couple of hours sleep before I tell you what all of this was about." This was the first time he looked up, meeting the demon's eyes.

Surprised, Dean's gaze narrowed and he gave him a short nod, never leaving his eyes from Sam's.

"Am I going to be pissed?" was all that Dean asked, as Sam strode past him, heading for the bathroom. It didn't sound as serious, it wasn't meant to. But there was a dangerous undertone somewhere along the line.

Sam nodded. "You have the permission to punch me when I'm done with tellin' you, 'kay?" He gave him a weak smile.

Dean couldn't suppress a smile either – no matter how hard he tried. Because he was still mad and pissed as hell ... _somehow_. "I take your word."

Sam stopped at the door and turned back around, eying the white plastic bag. "That's for you ... Saying sorry ..."

"I'm not that easy, hunter." The demon kept his features casual.

"It's pie," Sam added with big eyes, as if it could save him from a lifetime of foul taste.

Dean pursed his lips and looked pensively for a long moment. He gazed at the bag and back at Sam. "Pie you say?"

"With whipped cream ..." Sam added, sucking in a long-drawn breath. "And M & Ms."

Dean nodded, as if he was weighing the options. "Maybe we can make a deal though ..." He grinned broadly at the hunter.

Sam sniffed and turned back towards the bathroom-door. "Yeah ... maybe we can ..."

_... to be continued_

* * *

_Sooo ... do I deserve some BACON or not?_


	17. Chapter 17 Cuddles

**THANK YOU to my always awesome beta: GOTHPANDAOTAKU**

_**Obsidian ~ Raise A Little Hell**_

**The Road So Far:**

_Sam stopped at the door and turned back around, eying the white plastic bag. "That's for you ... Saying sorry ..."_

_"I'm not that easy, hunter." The demon kept his features casual._

_"It's pie," Sam added with big eyes, as if it could save him from a lifetime of foul taste._

_Dean pursed his lips and looked pensively for a long moment. He gazed at the bag and back at Sam. "Pie you say?"_

_"With whipped cream ..." Sam added, sucking in a long-drawn breath. "And M & Ms."_

_Dean nodded, as if he was weighing the options. "Maybe we can make a deal though ..." He grinned broadly at the hunter._

_Sam sniffed and turned back towards the bathroom-door. "Yeah ... maybe we can ..."_

* * *

_**Chapter 17 ~ Cuddles**_

Sam took a long hot shower, dried himself off and took his shaving kit from the small leather bag, which he had on the shelf under the sink. Usually he would be shaving in the morning, but he decided not to. Just because (and maybe because he hoped that Dean would be in his bed, gone, or maybe even asleep as soon as he'd come out).

He then took his time to brush his teeth. All in peace and without hurry, always listening carefully if he would hear the bedroom door or something that told him that Dean wasn't there anymore, when he would come out.

No such luck by the way. Though there wasn't any sound that let on, that Dean Winchester was still in their room …

When he emerged from the bathroom, his look instantly fell on the man on HIS bed. Sam ran his fingers through his damp hair and stared at Dean, who stared back at him. The demon held two forks in his left hand and the pie Sam had bought was resting in his lap, with a giant amount of whip cream sprayed all over it.

„You should eat something," Dean said – he sounded a bit sad, as if he knew that Sam had taken extra long in the bathroom to avoid him. „It's not your rabbit food … but … I figure you wouldn't mind tonight."

Sam wasn't hungry. Not a bit. The only thing that he wanted to do was go to bed and get some much needed sleep. Though he settled down beside his friend on the bed and took the offered fork.

„So … why don't you tell me what made you pick a fight with me, huh?" Dean said calmly, despite the anger that was boiling deep inside of him. „Why would you want to leave and say sorry seven hours later?" He had his presumptions, but didn't want to spoil anything – nor did he want to throw accusations at the hunter, that may or may not be wrong.

Sam sighed and leaned back against the headboard. There was no getting out. Sooner or later he had to tell Dean. And maybe sooner was better than later in this case. Just getting it over with and live with the consequences.

„First off: I didn't WANT to pick a fight with you. Second: Yes, I had planned on sneaking out at some point, but I didn't plan on leaving under those circumstances." Sam cleared his throat. „Because of a demon," he said quietly, forking up a bit of the whipped cream and licking it from the fork. „Because of a black bone."

Dean's eyes narrowed. There wasn't much it would take for him to explode right there. „A demon." He couldn't hide the disappointment and rage in his voice.

„There's just one bone, you know that?" Sam stole a glance at Dean.

Sure the demon knew it – he had known it all along. The expression on his face was taking it away.

Sam sighed deeply. „I didn't know it. I thought there'd be more … and it wouldn't be so difficult to get my hands on one by myself. - But … there's just one. And … it's like … either WE get it, or Alistair." Sam paused, waiting for Dean to say something, but the man kept still, instead he forked up a piece of pie and whipped cream. „So … no matter what YOU want to do with it … we should try to get to it first. - Hide it somewhere, or destroy it. - Anything you wanna do …"

There was a beat of silence.

„Who's got it?", Dean asked silently. He already knew, but he wanted to know if Sam did.

„Crowley. - A demon," Sam answered, taking a fork full himself.

Dean nodded absently. „So … you planned on going for a black bone that's in the hands of a demon, even when I said I don't care about that right now." He paused. „You took on a DEMON all by yourself without telling me, even when I said NO." He paused again. „You could've gotten yourself killed, Sam. That what you want? Getting killed?"

Sam shook his head. „No."

Dean decided to let it slide – at least for now. Not just because Sam looked tired and exhausted and surely didn't seem as if he was up for a discussion right now, even when Dean was. Also because Dean didn't want Sam to know about his plan B. A plan he had made up, in case the ritual would go wrong. A plan that'd been way easier to accomplish than the ritual. „Okay … so Crowley got a black bone, Which Alistair wants. Is that right?"

Sam nodded.

„Crowley's a crossroads demon, Sam. He's dangerous. He's actually the KING of crossroads. - Alistair won't be able to get it." He was pretty sure that it was like this. Though, among demons you could never be absolutely sure about something. „Nor will we. We can't break in there, and we sure as hell won't _trade_ with that bastard either."

Sam nodded again. He would've been surprised if Dean had said something different from that. Though he wouldn't drop it. „Can we talk about it tomorrow? And just … you know … finish the pie, cuddle and go to sleep?"

Dean couldn't suppress the smirk that was building up on his face. Sure he was mad at Sam. On the other hand he was also proud. Which didn't change a damn thing; it had been reckless to go for it on his own.

„I don't know if I want to cuddle with you ...", Dean shot back, „... I'm still pissed."

The hunter sniffed. „I know."

* * *

They did – in fact – kind of cuddle (Dean would never admit that anyway).

While a giant soft moose lay sprawled out all over him on the small bed, Dean was thinking and stroking fondly over the hunter's shaggy soft hair. He couldn't possibly be mad at the hunter. Oh well, he could – somehow – but he didn't want to.

Oh god – when the hell had he become that SOFT? He should spank that disobedient brat and show him his place. He should yell at him and kick his ass into next week.

He just couldn't. Because he kind of understood Sam. Somehow, in that _twisted_ mind of the hunter, he high likely thought he was doing the right thing. No matter how selfless it was. How STUPID it had been.

Dean closed his eyes and buried his nose in the hunter's hair, sucking in a deep breath and placing a gentle kiss on the top of his head.

„I never thought I'd feel something like that … The more we're together … the more time we spend with each other … the stronger it gets, Sam. I can't do anything against it, you know? I'd love to pack you up in cotton balls … I … It's weird ..." He frowned, tightening his hold around Sam. „It hurt. It hurt when I couldn't find you. It damn freaking HURT." It had hurt him physically – something he had never experienced before. The heavy stone in his guts, the tight feeling around his chest, the whirring thoughts in his mind. It had physically HURT. The thought that Sam could be somewhere … maybe hurt … or with someone else … or god knew what.

He couldn't be as mad at him as he wanted to. Not right now, but maybe tomorrow …

„I think this is called love ...", Dean whispered. „That's how it feels, isn't it? Not just … just the pain … also THIS. HERE. The warmth in my stomach, that spreads through my body when I'm with you. This … this feeling of being AT PEACE … it's ..." He sighed, not able to find the right words. „I want to be mad at you. I want to hurt you for going against my … orders. I want to spank your perky ass right into next week. But I can't. It's … it's as if that THING inside of me's growing all soft and tender, and … IF that's what love is … I'm afraid – and I never was afraid – I'm afraid of loosing you, of loosing the closeness I feel when you're near me." Dean sighed heavily. „It's frightening … and though it makes me happy and warm and … and just REAL happy."

A beat of silence.

„I get it, it's amazing," Sam muttered hoarsely. „And now shut up and sleep with me."

Dean smiled. „Sure.", He muttered. „.. and … about what I was just talkin' ...", he said awkwardly.

Sam shifted and moaned, curling up at the demon's side under the comforter and snuggled with his head into Dean's chest.

„Night." Sam sniffed.

„I thought you're asleep … and that's just ..." Dean huffed out a breath. „... embarrassing."

Sam nudged the demon gently with his nose. „Sleep, Deana. - You can reveal your feelings towards me tomorrow." He smirked into the man's chest.

„Shut up, Sam." Dean grunted, „That was a one time thing. - NEVER gonna happen again."

The hunter chuckled and shook his head. „Sure thing, Baby."

Dean's gaze darkened. The hairs at the back of his neck stood up and a cool shiver ran down his spine. „Come again?"

„Didn't say anything .", the younger man shot back, still grinning.

„Hope so, bitch." Dean tightened his hold around Sam for a brief moment. „Good night."

* * *

Dean shifted, pressing himself up against the warmth of Sam Campbell's back. He groaned comfortably and traced with his fingers from Sam's side along the waistband of his sweats towards the front of them. The demon kept his eyes closed, while he teased along the tender skin of Sam's stomach and the soft curly hair that started at his navel and vanished under the waistband.

„Baby boy," Dean hummed into Sam's ear. He snuck one of his hands under the band with his fingertips. „Sammy."

„Mhmmm," Sam hummed back, his lips curling up into a soft smile. „'m here ..."

Dean's fingertips snug in between his sweats and boxers, feeling the hard length beneath. „Feelin' it." He cupped him in his hand and Sam pushed into the touch.

The hunter moaned and Dean pushed his hips forward, letting the hunter feel his own arousal. „Yeah … and it feel's good.", the demon said hoarsely, „real good."

The hunter pushed back against the demon, cupping his hand over Dean's. He followed the Winchester's movements, the slow up and downs and Sam made small silent noises of approval.

Dean nipped on the younger man's neck.

„You smell good.", he hummed into the ministrations silently.

„Taste even better," Sam panted, rubbing his butt against the front of the demon's sweats.

The hunter turned over, so he was facing Dean and sealed his lips over his. First it was just tentative. Trailing with his tongue along those pouty rose lips and pressed himself up against Dean. Sam's hands found their way to the older man's waistband and pushed it down slowly, taking his pants with. The demon moaned into the kiss, feeling a big warm hand wrap around his length.

„Sam …" he protested halfheartedly. They had never gone that far – not until now.

„Love doesn't just hurt," he whispered against Dean's lips. „I'll show you ..." With that he was kissing and nipping his way over Dean's stubbly jaw and throat, while he stroke him slowly, feeling the silken, tender length in his palm.

Dean didn't notice Sam vanishing under the comforter. All he felt were gentle lips and tender fingertips everywhere on him. Just when he felt a warm wetness wrap around the head of his arousal, Dean realized what the hunter was doing. He gasped at the first sensation of suction and the soft tongue against the underside of his hardness. Soft lips closed around him and tightened.

Dean's hand found its way under the comforter and the mop of hair, in which they wrapped instinctively.

The demon's eyes were still closed, his mouth standing agape, making short breaths and gasps, every time Sam intended to take his manhood deeper. He could feel the head of his member nudge at the back of Sam's throat and tightened his grip on the younger man's hair. Dean tried to hold still, to not buck his hips forward and bury himself deeper in the man's hot mouth.

Sam let off of the demon's hard length with his hand and laid it on his hip. It wasn't something he did with everyone, nor was he used to it. And though … with Dean it seemed just right. He wanted to give him something special, even when the demon didn't even know that it was.

So Sam tried to relax his throat as he pulled back, until just the head of Dean's arousal was in his mouth, and then he took him down again – all the way. First it felt like choking, but once he had swallowed Dean's cock down, it didn't seem that bad anymore.

Dean's eyes flew open at the sudden sensation of being taken down to the hilt, his grip in Sam's hair tightened and he instantly wanted to pull back and out, as he heard a muffled choking voice from under the covers, but Sam held his hip in an iron grip.

It didn't take more than five slow pushes from Sam, and the demon's manhood started to twitch and buck and he spilled warm white liquid down the hunter's throat.

Sam pulled off of Dean, coughing and gasping for air and fumbled for the hem of the comforter to pull it down. Though, it seemed a lot more difficult than it should've been. He didn't quite know if he had pulled the comforter back by himself, or it had been Dean instead. All he knew was, that there was fresh air suddenly and shaky hands on his arms which pulled him back up.

„You okay?" Dean looked guiltily down at him.

Sam nodded and coughed again. „Hit me unprepared," he muttered.

The demon cupped his face in his hands and pulled him into a tender kiss. „Let … me … return … the favor," he whispered in between kissed.

Sam pulled back a bit and looked aside embarrassed.

Dean took in his face, his slightly flushed cheeks. „You … you already came?"

The hunter shrugged and blushed even more. „It was … kinda … arousing ..." Sam mumbled and cleared his throat.

The demon chuckled and sniffed. He forced Sam gently to look at him. „What about … we're gettin' cleaned up, make breakfast and as soon as Jim's outa the house, I'm gonna make out with you on the kitchen table ..."

Sam Campbell caught the demon's gaze with big innocent looking eyes. He was kind of shocked about Dean's suggestion … and then again he wasn't. In fact it sounded pretty filthy and was turning him on. But the fact that they were in a priest's house … abusing the PRIEST's kitchen table for something like that …

„The kitchen table?", Sam asked with furrowed brows.

„The counter eventually?" Dean's smile formed into a cocky smirk.

„You're unbelievable," the hunter gave him a peck on the lips, before he rolled out of bed.

„I know." Dean rose an eyebrow, mischievousness sparkling in his eyes. „Unbelievably sexy. Unbelievably smart. Unbelievably handsome – Unbel-"

„Unbelievably cocky," Sam stopped his babbling, as he turned around to head for the bathroom.

The demon looked at him, trying to look upset. „Where do you think you're going?"

Sam chuckled. „Bathroom – using up all the hot water." He gave him a wink.

„The hell you will!" Dean struggled with the sheets, in which he was miraculously tangled up. Before he made it out of bed, the bathroom door slid shut.

* * *

Jim wasn't up yet.

That was when they noticed that it wasn't that late in the morning. Right quarter to eight.

Sam turned the radio on and Dean got the eggs out of the fridge. They stood beside each other. Sam was swinging with his hips to the tunes of a song on the radio.

The demon was stealing glances at him and bit his lower lip, thinking about all the nasty things he could do to Sam right now if they'd been on their own. He'd switch the oven off and back Sam up against the counter – or whatever flat surface that'd be there. And then he'd show him. - Show him all the hot stuff he'd be capable of doing to him with just a snap of his fingers.

Dean's gaze flickered up at the hunter, taking in his profile. The curve of his nose … his lips … the way his expression went blank when he was concentrating on something, and when his eyes narrowed on the object before him – in this case it was toast.

He just couldn't resist the opportunity to sneak his free arm around Sam's lower back and press him a bit closer against his side. It felt unbelievably GOOD. Warm. Comfortable. Sweet …

Sam smirked, letting himself being pulled close. It felt incredibly amazing. It felt like something he hadn't felt in a long time. Hell, he couldn't remember that he had EVER felt that way about someone else. - Most of all not for some demonic creature …

And though … Dean Winchester wasn't quite demonic, was he? Sam had learned, that the knight of hell had HELPED humans. SAVED lives. No matter how BAD Dean wanted to seem to others … he wasn't. Deep down he wasn't.

Sam looked down at the older man (not that he was that small, Sam was just quite tall) and pressed a tender kiss to the demon's temple. Dean leaned into the gentle touch.

„I'd like my eggs yellow … not black ..." came a hoarse voice from behind them.

Dean instantly pulled the pan with eggs from the oven, before he turned around to spot a pretty wrecked looking Pastor in his plaid pyjamas who was sitting down at the kitchen table.

Sam looked back over his shoulder.  
„Mornin' guys," the pastor muttered with a broad, sleepy grin on his face.

„Morning, Jim,," Dean said cheerily.

„Good Morning, Pastor." Sam answered more embarrassed than anything else.

„Breakfast's ready?" Jim asked – still smiling and a little bit dreamy looking.

„Sure. - In five," Dean answered with a grin, as he saw Sam's flushed cheeks from the corners of his eyes.

They ate breakfast then. All together at the giant kitchen table. In silence. Sam and Dean were stealing loving glances at each other like freshly fallen in love teenagers.

The pastor excused himself and went to his private rooms. He let the both of them know, that he was going to do some house visits and wouldn't be home until the late afternoon.

After doing the dishes they headed into the living room, where they slumped down on the couch.

Sam was tired – again. A couple of hours sleep wasn't enough obviously. Not when he had just come back home seven hours ago … and was up again since about two.

After a short fight over the remote, Sam gave in and left it to the demon to pick a channel. Not so surprisingly they landed on one that was playing The Matrix and they stuck with that movie anyway.

Dean sat on the furthest left side of the couch, while Sam lay on it – half curled up – with his head in the older man's lap. The demon was caressing Sam's neck and shoulder fondly, giving the hunter more attention than Keanu Reeves fighting Agent Smith, or the hot black-haired Trinity …

Sam's breathing evened out soon and he seemed to drift off into a deeper sleep.

* * *

It wasn't more than two hours later, that Sam started to stir again. Dean let his hand rest on the younger man's shoulder.

„D'n?" Sam muttered.

„Try to get some more sleep, huh?" Dean Winchester was very aware of the fact that Sam barely got a whole lot of fitful sleep these days. Not since the club …

Sam's eyes fluttered open and he blinked a couple of times to clear his vision. For a moment he didn't know where he was and what he was doing there. He couldn't remember falling asleep either …

As if Dean sensed his distress, he stroked gently over Sam's bicep and squeezed it gently. „We're at Jim's. Fell asleep right after sitting down on the couch, baby boy."

„Is that so?" The hunter shifted and looked up at Dean, who was smiling down at him.

„That's so ...", Dean's voice was low and sensual, as if he was intending to make him come just from his voice. He traced with his fingertips over Sam's forehead, temple and cheek, down to his jaw and chin.

„You've no idea what you're doin' to me, Sam," he growled softly. „No idea what you do to me when you're looking at me like that … all big eyes and kissable lips." It should have sounded dangerous to Sam, but it actually didn't. Dean traced with his thumb over Sam's lower lip. „Oh hell, and what you can do with this mouth, Sammy …"

A tingling sensation coursed through Sam's body. „Is that so?" His voice was thin. He sucked in his lower lip and bit down on it.

Dean watched the hunter's face for a long time before he nodded. There wasn't just lust in the man's eyes. There was also love – like deep abiding love and not just some … something _common_. THIS seemed to be deeper. It felt deeper, more profound …

They made out on the couch for quite some time. First they were sitting there, soon after, Dean was on top of Sam, covering the taller man with his body, while his hands roamed all over the hunter and Sam's were all over the demon's.

It felt like being seventeen all over again – for Sam – as he was rubbing his hard erection against the man's above him. Dean sat up on the hunter's lap they parted from kissing and pressed down on him – hard.

Sam moaned deeply and he bucked his hips up, in need of more friction for his already aching hard manhood.

They made out some more, though without going any further, and ended up CUDDLING on the couch. Dean was pressed in between the backrest and Sam, holding the hunter loosely in his arms, as the both of them watched Neo massaging Trinity's heart …

„I think I could like this film somehow ..." Sam muttered hoarsely.

„You THINK?" Dean huffed out a laugh. „Man, that movie's a classic."

Sam chuckled. He knew the demon would defend the movie – though, he also said, that „Snakes on a plane" (no matter how screwed up that movie was), was a classic too.

The hunter sucked in a deep breath and blew it out slowly through his nose. He then turned around carefully, so not to fall from the edge onto the floor and locked his gaze with Dean's.

„What about the bone?" he asked softly – calmly, nearly soothing.

„What about it?" It was true. Dean had thought about the bone most of the night while Sam was asleep. He had thought back and forth and back again, trying to figure out what to do next, now that they had new leads and possibilities and insights.

Sam shrugged. „Do we try to get it?"

Dean sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. „Sam …. I don't think it'd be that easy. Crowley won't just hand it over." Dean paused. „Hell, I'd wiggle through someone's guts to get my hands on it. It's worth killing for, Sam. I doubt that Crowley would let it go that easy. Besides there are his PETS … and the wards – and then there's Crowley himself.

Sam sucked in his lower lip and cast his look down. It didn't sound THAT bad.

„You wanted to do the ritual so damn bad back there at the cabin ..." the hunter started again, „... and now you're not interested anymore? Because it could get me hurt?" Sam's jaw was set. „Would you ever feel happy without trying it once more? Knowing that it might work now?"

Dean rolled his eyes. „There are more important things."

„- No, there aren't, Dean. Look, when we get the bone, do the ritual and it WORKS … then Alistair's screwed too ..." Sam looked up at the demon again and was met with an annoyed gaze.

„Sam. - No. How easy do you think it will be for Alistair to track us down and what he'll do to us then? What he'll do to YOU?" Dean shook his head in denial. He didn't want to imagine it. „There's no way. I'm not saying that we won't try it. - But first I wanna see Alistair dead before we do anything else."

Sam nodded to himself. Sure Dean had a point there, but then again … wasn't this about the greater good? Humanity? „What if we fail, and Alistair gets the drop on you – or the both of us? What if he does the ritual? Then everything's lost, Dean. - Not just us … the whole damn world will be." His eyes narrowed.

Sam had a point. Dean had one too. „I won't let it happen." He bit his tongue, before anything else could come over his lips.

…_. to be continued_

* * *

_I didn't get a whole lot of reviews on the last chapter ... SO ... I'm asking myself if I'm still on the right path ... _


	18. Chapter 18 Parted Mind

_**THANK YOU FOR YOUR REVIEWS :D **_

_**you guys know how to motivate a writer ^^**_

_THANK YOU to my always amazingly awesome GOTHPANDAOTAKU for betaing._

_my writing makes more sense after she looked over it._

* * *

_**Obsidian ~ Raise A Little Hell**_

**The Road So Far:**

_Dean rolled his eyes. „There are more important things."_

„ _No, there aren't, Dean. Look, when we get the bone, do the ritual and it WORKS … then Alistair's screwed too ..." Sam looked up at the demon again and was met with an annoyed gaze._

„_Sam, No. How easy do you think it will be for Alistair to track us down and what he'll do to us then? What he'll do to YOU?" Dean shook his head in denial. He didn't want to imagine it. „There's no way. I'm not saying that we won't try it. - But first I wanna see Alistair dead before we do anything else."_

_Sam nodded to himself. Sure Dean had a point there, but then again … wasn't this about the greater good? Humanity? „What if we fail, and Alistair gets the drop on you – or the both of us? What if he does the ritual? Then everything's lost, Dean. - Not just us … the whole damn world will be." His eyes narrowed._

_Sam had a point. Dean had one too. „I won't let it happen." He bit his tongue, before anything else could come over his lips._

* * *

_**Chapter 18 ~ Parted Mind**_

The Impala's engine rumbled soothingly. The window on the driver's side was rolled down, letting in some cool night air. Dean had his hands on the steering wheel, while Sam had his nose buried in a book, illuminating the pages with a flashlight.

The demon stole glances at the human beside him, snatching looks at Sam's fingers, which ghosted over the old paper of the book. The way he touched the literature as if he was going to break it if he'd laid his hands on it too forcefully. He was literally caressing the pages tenderly as he skipped another page further.

Holy hell ... what those fingers were capable of ...

"You found something yet?" Dean broke the silence.

"Not something that could tell us what kind of spell they probably used to hide from you," Sam muttered absently. "But I found a bunch of other stuff that could be useful though."

"Useful? How?" Dean wasn't someone to turn down witchcraft just because it was a bit dark.

"Something that'll make your cock grow another couple of inches." Sam's eyes darted towards Dean, wearing a mischievous smirk on his lips.

The car broke out over the median strip, onto the other lane, but Dean had his baby under control within two seconds again and guided it back where it belonged. "Dude!" he called, upset. "You can't say things like that while I'm drivin'!" Dean's voice pierced through the car. He cleared his throat and took a deep inhale. "'s there somethin' you wanna tell me?"

Sam chuckled amused and shook his head. "Nah ..." He bit his lower lip and reached over towards Dean, where he laid his flat palm on the demon's upper thigh. "Nothing I'd like to change."His fingertips fluttered over the zipper of the demon's jeans.

The car reared out of the lane once more. "Hell! You can't do that either while I'm drivin'!" he cried out.

"Is that so?" Sam just smirked at him unimpressed and did it again.

Dean pressed his lips together in a thin line and swallowed a moan. "Oh, the things I'm gonna do to you, bitch ..." he hissed through gritted teeth.

Sam chuckled. "Empty promises, jerk." There was more in his words than just the sound of them. Something deeply disappointed.

"We'll see who's gonna be the one who'll be jerking, baby boy," Dean glared at him as he used his low voice.

The hunter pulled his hand away and buried his nose back in the book in his lap. He mumbled something to himself and his eyes narrowed as soon as they laid on the next page.

"Got it," Sam exclaimed calmly, "... I think."

"How to make yourself grow tits?" Dean cocked an eyebrow and glanced at Sam just in the right moment, to catch the man's bitchface. _Yeah, payback is a bitch, isn't it?_

_Yahtzee_ – bitchface number nineteen. The demon couldn't suppress a smirk.

"No, Idiot." Sam grumbled. "How they hid from you. It's a spell ... a nasty one," his voice trailed off.

Dean watched the endless asphalt road before him and his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Something written about how to dissolve it? Or make it ineffective?" He stole another glance at Sam, trying to read the man's face within the millisecond he caught a glimpse of him.

Sam pursed his lips. "Not yet ... " He bit his lower lip. "Doesn't look like there's somethin' ..."

The demon sighed and shook his head. THAT pissed him right off. "Not exactly," he muttered and thrust his jaw forward. "If you don't find anything about it, we're gonna make up a counter-spell on our own."

Sam huffed out a laugh. "How the hell are we supposed to do that? I ain't a witch, nor do I know how to do such a thing. One wrong syllable and the damn thing goes south – BADLY."

Dean smirked at the hunter. "Nah, I know how to do that shit. Gonna take a couple of days, but it'll work. - I guess."

"So ..." Sam tilted his head to the side curiously. "You're tellin' me that you know how to do that? You're not just a wicked demon and knight of hell, you're also a nasty witch?" He watched the demon's face closely, not missing the moment of pride crossing the older man's face.

"I'm a damn freakin' wicked demon hyphen witch hyphen knight of hell hyphen lord, Sammy." He pursed his lips. For once he felt kind of proud of what he was and what he was capable of.

"And that always worked, wicked demon-witch-knight-of-hell-hyphen-lord?" The hunter asked, now even more curious than before.

Dean pulled a grimace. "You don't say hyphen if you say it that way, Sam."

"It didn't work all the time, did it?" Sam rose both eyebrows, obviously demanding a honest answer, after the demon didn't seem to want to tell him. Something that bothered Sam, because he didn't want to lose Dean because of a stupid mistake ...

Dean wiggled with his head to the left and right. "Don't worry. I won't let you grow tentacles or something ..." He seemed to think for a moment. "... nah ... wait ... TENTACLES ..." He made a guttural sound. "I could let myself grow some tentacles ... make you all hot and bothered with them ..." He bit his lower lip in that way that made girls and women melt.

"Ewww." Sam pulled a grimace and thumped him with his fist in the bicep. "Dude ... you alright? Bumped your head or somethin'?" He shook himself and made another sound of disgust. "You let yourself grow tentacles and you won't come near me. EVER. AGAIN."

"Awww, c'mon Sammy ..." He wiggled with his eyebrows. "That could be fun, baby boy." He pursed his lips, looking at Sam. "A bit of tentacle-sex ..."

Dean had this look wich told the hunter that he didn't mean it seriously though, so he just shook his head and chuckled. "Kinky bastard." He sniffed and glanced at Dean, giving him that affectionate look. "So ... ever have anything go wrong?" Sam wasn't someone to just let it drop.

Dean nodded. Now he looked beyond serious. "That's why I don't wanna have you near me or the building when I'm doing it, clear?" It wasn't a question. This was an order. "Just in case something goes wrong with the counter spell – or whatever way I find to do this."

The demon sounded and seemed too serious. So Sam nodded. He didn't want to explode or wake up with a concussion and four arms, or an extra leg ... or worse: with tentacles. "Okay ... if you say so ..." Besides, he could use the time to figure out a plan, of how to get into Crowley's lair and sneak past his pets without being noticed and get ripped to shreds. He could work something out, that didn't involve the help of a certain handsome devil ... "If you come back with tentacles, I'm gonna kick your ass."

Because one thing was for sure: His lover would never approve of his plans.

Dean flashed a curious look at Sam. "There are no buts from your side? You ... you're just let me do my thing here?"

Sam chuckled. "Buts? Hell, I don't wanna grow tentacles or some crazy shit." He smirked and leaned back. "That'd be ... gross ... besides ... I could check out where to find our next demon in the meantime."

The demon was still curious about Sam's fast approval to his plan, but then again he was happy about it too. At least he would know that the hunter was at a safe place and all that.

* * *

They holed up in an abandoned farm-house that night.

Besides all the dusty furniture and rooms reeking of mold, it was quite alright. They covered the double-bed on the first floor with blankets and managed to warm up a pair of canned ravioli in the small fireplace.

When they had eaten, Sam slumped down on the bed, while Dean busied himself on the small table, scrabbling into a notebook and looked every now and then into the old book with the spell.

The hunter watched him longingly, with his hands behind his head. For the promise Dean had made, that he'd make HIM jerk, the demon was pretty far away from the bed. Sure, they had a job to do ... but Sam had imagined it a bit differently.

THIS way, Dean wouldn't make Sam jerk in any way ... nor would he get him to beg ...

Dean felt the hunter's eyes on him the entire time. He'd be lying if he said that he wouldn't love to go over there, rip the man's clothes off of him and molest him a little bit – or maybe a bit more than just a little bit.

To be honest ... that was the reason, why Dean sat there at the table and tried to work on the damn counter-spell instead of being on the bed with the hunter.

He had promised himself that he would take this slow and that he wouldn't hurry things up with Sam. He had promised himself further, that he wouldn't touch him, as long as this dark side in him was present. At least he wouldn't touch him TOO MUCH.

The demon was afraid to hurt him, when he was at it. He was afraid of the things he might say while they had sex – the real thing and not just rubbing off on each other.

Dean wanted to make it all right and good and perfect for the both of them. Because he didn't want to lose the hunter. This was kind of his FIRST TIME with someone he really liked (not just liked, actually LOVED, but it took a lot out of Dean to even think that word).

He just didn't want to mess things up.

And since he didn't want to mess things up, he felt insecure and was internally panicking every time he thought about going any further with Sam. It felt so confusing, that he didn't even notice that Sam was waiting for Dean to make the first move.

When did things become that complicated for the demon?

Sam wasn't quite sure what it was the both of them had. At least not anymore. The lesser Dean seemed to even WANT to have sex with him, the more insecure the hunter became. The demon made those promises all over the past three days, that he'd show him how good it is, and that he'd make it even better ... but nothing ever happened. So, for what reasons would Dean Winchester say things like that, if he wouldn't even try to come near Sam in that kind of way?

So Sam held back and was waiting. Because maybe, the Winchester didn't mean what he was saying. Maybe Dean didn't want him that way ... hell, the man had never mentioned that he also swung the other way round ... Okay, they had those moments, when they rubbed off on each other, or when Sam had given Dean a mind-blowing blowjob. But other than that nothing ever happened. The demon wouldn't even come near his butt, except for squeezing it, or touching it – as long as there was a layer of fabric between his hand and Sam's ass.

Sam opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again. Hell, when the fuck had he become so insecure about things?

Dean continued to work – halfheartedly – on the counter-spell until Sam fell asleep. Just then, the Winchester turned off the electronic lantern and laid down too, staring at the hunter through the darkness. He knew he had to do SOMETHING and soon, before Sam would think that something was wrong. He could at least try to talk about it with him ...

* * *

The next day dawned and they were back on the road, a strained silence in the car while they drove. Dean hadn't said anything. Instead he had kept his mouth shut while they walked to the car and stuffed their belongings into the trunk. It hadn't even worked to give Sam a good-morning kiss, even when the hunter had been waiting for it.

All of a sudden everything seemed to be cold instead of warm. Sam couldn't meet the demon's look once while they drove and wouldn't even reach over to lay his hand on Dean's thigh. Nor did Dean reach over and lay his hand on Sam's thigh ...

It was just messed up – even when nothing had happened between them. And maybe that was the reason for it.

"So ..." Sam was the one to break the iron silence after an hour of driving, "... you figured out how to do the counter-spell?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah." He sounded somehow ... hopeful. "I'm gonna drop you off at a diner ... you can get breakfast or something while I'm lookin' for some place to do it ..."

Sam felt miserable on the inside. This wasn't how he had imagined things ... he had thought this would be easier. He could've dealt with a lot – just not with THAT. He avoided to look Dean in the eyes, since he felt even filthier than he had ever before – and he didn't even have a clue why the hell it was that way. Maybe because Dean seemed like he had changed his mind. Maybe because he didn't want Sam anymore ... Maybe because he felt like a total idiot for even thinking that Dean Winchester would stay with him longer than necessary ... And MAYBE, Dean had even thought he OWED him (what would make matters even worse for Sam).

Dean stole a vague glance at the hunter. He knew he probably should just tell him. Maybe he should tell him that all of this was a bad idea and that he wasn't made for relationships. Or maybe he should tell him the truth, that he was so freaking insecure that he was willing to risk what they had, so that he just could get out of this situation.

Or he'd just kiss the hunter, undress him and make love to him ...

How the hell could humans even live with all those emotions? That shit was killing him. It was letting him die a slow torturous death ... and he couldn't stop it. That thing – this feeling – was eating him up from the inside, and the more time passed the worse it seemed to get. It was like a sickness that made his gut churn and his heart ache.

"No ..." Sam breathed, his eyebrows furrowed. "... Just ... Maybe you could drop me off at a library?" He wasn't in the mood to eat. His stomach churned, his heart stumbled along and hell, if it didn't sting like a bitch. He wasn't hungry. Not after everything looked like they were about to break up. So if Dean was going to break up with him, he'd take it like a MAN.

"Sure." Dean gave the hunter a strained smile. "I'm gonna pick you up when I'm done."

Dean pursed his lips, his facial expression blank as a sheet of paper. He could practically hear the hurt in Sam's voice, but some inner force was hindering him on pouring his heart out in front of the man. Somehow the words wouldn't come over his lips. Those words, which had to be said desperately._ I love you _... and ... _would you make love to me_? Or something like that ... maybe words that wouldn't sound THAT cheesy.

When they came across the next town, Dean dropped the hunter off at the library and found himself a quiet place where he'd be able to do the counter-spell. So – at least – he would be able to sense other demons again and they wouldn't be able to hide from him anymore.

* * *

Sam had made up a master plan on how to get the bone out of the damn building and how to take out those damn hellish pets. When he finished working on it, it was about half past six p.m. The hunter didn't hurry though, since he hadn't gotten a call from Dean, nor a text message.

Something that felt kind of weird to him, though it wasn't enough reason to worry about the demon. Dean had told him that he'd pick him up again, as soon as he'd be done ... that had been close to ten hours ago ... So he sat down on the stone-made stairs outside the building and tilted the collar of his jacket up, so that the cool wind wouldn't cut into his skin and to spare himself some warmth.

He waited another hour, his duffel-bag at his side, phone in his hands ...

He had tried to call the demon a couple of times now. He had also sent him two messages.

This wasn't like Dean.

And it was getting damn cold outside.

Sam tried it again, and the call went straight to voice-mail. He sighed deeply and shook his head, fisting the phone in his hand tightly. Pictures of how that damn counter-spell could've gone wrong popped up behind his eyelids every time he blinked, or dared to rest his tired eyes by closing them.

He shouldn't have let Dean do that on his own. He should – at least – have insisted on staying close. But nope, as the selfish bastard he was, he had to go his own way and have some me-time in the library to make up his own plans.

Sam pulled the wallet from the inner pocket of his jacket and looked inside. He had a bit over hundred dollars in there – enough for a motel-room. He put it back into the pocket and rose. His limbs felt stiff from the cold and his butt felt as if it was made of ice.

He thought for a moment about going back inside, but the town's librarian was locking the door right then.

So Sam stood there for another forty-five minutes, weighing if he should go and find a motel, or if he should try to find Dean Winchester first ...

He wiped over the screen of his phone and tried to call Dean once again. "Hey ..." Sam said as soon as he heard the beep, "... Call me as soon as you hear this, okay? I'm done at the library ... and it's gettin' cold here." He put the phone back into his pocket and waited there some more.

There was no call back. No message. No nothing.

Sam's lips quivered and the wind was picking up, so he decided to get his freezing ass somewhere warm. Maybe getting a room or something, and then try to get a hold of a car and start to look for Dean. He walked through the town for a good half an hour before he cursed at himself and entered the one and only bar he had already walked by earlier.

It wasn't like the town was THAT big. It was rather because the owner of the damn motel down the street wasn't home right now ... at least the board on the door told him so.

Though, when he entered the bar, he thought he wasn't seeing right.

There was Dean Winchester. Flirting shamelessly with the female bartender. That bastard was blinking his long lashes at her, showing her dimples and pouty lips.

She was a slender tall woman with blonde long hair and blue eyes like the clear sky. She had boobs ... unbelievably huge boobs and the top she was wearing wasn't hiding anything either.

And Dean was leaning at the bar. FLIRTING with her, while HE – Samuel Campbell – had been freezing his damn ass off out there. That bastard hadn't even been able to pick up his phone. Apparently he'd found better company.

Instead of following his urge to go over there and bitchslap that bastard in front of everyone, he decided to play it cool. Making a scene inside a bar, that high likely was filled with a butt-load of homophobes, wasn't a good thing to do.

Sam stood at the closed door and watched Dean a little longer, trying to decide if he should go over there, or if he should just go back outside and wait for the motel-manager to get back ... The hell he'd do anyway. It was could outside and he had at least as much right to be there as Dean did.

Since the Campbell wasn't a quitter, he straightened up and walked over to the bar, where he shoved his icy ass on the empty stool right next to the Winchester and just when he cleared his throat, the bartender tore her attention towards him.

So did Dean.

As much to say: The demon looked rather surprised.

Sam's jaw was set. His look distant and filled with white hot anger. Something Dean couldn't miss.

"Thought you'd stay at the library 'til I'd pick you up?" Either Dean was truly surprised, or he just acted as if he was. OR he was a total asshole.

"The library's closed since ..." Sam looked at his wrist-watch. "... about two hours. It's quarter to nine, Dean." He looked back up at Dean, who gazed innocently at him. He took in a shaky breath.

"Why didn't you ... call?" he asked and shared an affectionate look with the bartender.

Sam couldn't do anything but watch the demon's flirtations with that woman in disbelief. He would've rather kicked himself in the ass right now, instead of sitting there like a statue and watching.

"I did. You didn't pick up. And you didn't message back." Sam kept his voice matter-of-factly. He actually wasn't sure what was pissing him off more. That it seemed like Dean had forgotten him - over a hot chick in a bar – in the damn freaking coldness, or that he had honestly thought that the thing between him and Dean would miraculously work.

Dean's pouty lips formed a perfect "o". "Shit, man ...", he muttered and fumbled for his phone, ".. 'm sorry. The battery went out on me ..." Dean looked at him with big green eyes, obviously trying to find an excuse.

MAN? When the hell had Sam started to be MAN again, instead of BABY BOY, kiddo, or SAMMY.

"No need to." Sam tried to hide his disappointment with a bitter laugh. This was it. The end. Wasn't it? "I'm gonna get us a room. - There's a motel down the road." He said it in a way that let on, that he wanted Dean to come with – he even looked at the demon in that particular way.

But either he didn't get it, or he didn't want to leave just now ... because he laid his wallet in front of Sam on the bar. "I'm comin' in a little bit."

The hunter could just watch – completely aghast – how Dean gave the bartender RIGHT in front of his eyes a questioning look. "Get us a room in the meanwhile, huh?" He tipped at his wallet without even looking at Sam. "I'll pay."

Sam's nostrils flared. He swallowed thickly. This was ... _humiliating_. This felt more humiliating than anything Dean could've done to him any other way. This was worse, because it stung like a bitch, as if Dean was driving a knife straight into his heart.

Sam shoved the wallet back in front of the Winchester and thrust his jaw forward. He hoped Dean would get the wink.

The demon didn't seem to get it.

So Sam left, without sparing a single glance at him, nor saying goodbye to either the bartender nor Dean. He simply left his boyfriend, lover, fucker – however to call a bastard like him – at the bar.

Maybe Sam thought, the demon hadn't noticed. But Dean had, and it hurt him at least as much as it must've hurt Sam.

What the hell was wrong with him? Why couldn't he just jump over his shadow and do things the normal way like everyone else did? Why couldn't he just let things happen? Like showing Sam HOW MUCH he truly loved him. How much he wanted him ... But NO. Instead he had to fuck things up all over again.

He hadn't picked Sam up right after the counter-spell was done (which was about four hours ago), because he tried to figure out how to get that bad atmosphere between the both of them to vanish. He had tried to clear his head before he'd pick Sam up and get them a half-decent motel-room to talk things out.

And then ... then the feeling of not being good enough for Samuel Campbell came back. Then he had started to think again. He had started to OVERTHINK things. - Which had actually screwed up everything all over again.

And then there had been that woman behind the bar, who had been super nice and with whom he had been talking about that tiny problem – as if it was someone else's of course, because a Winchester never had issues with lovers.

And now he was HERE. He didn't even remember how it had gotten that late. How he could've forgotten about Sam and the library and to pick him up. Dean didn't know how he could've possibly fucked up a fucked up situation like that EVEN MORE.

Now Sam was pissed – with justice.

"Huh ..." The female bartender – Carla – took the empty beer-bottle away. "... Guess it just got messed up some more?"

Dean huffed out a breath. "You can bet on it."

She cocked one of her blonde eyebrows at the demon and shook her head. "Well then, boy. You better get your ass goin' and go after him before he decides to let you sleep in the car."

Not often, Dean let himself being told what to do. But this time he did. He gave Carla a rich tip, before he slid from his stool and hurried up to leave the bar.

It hadn't been more than ten minutes, but when he got there, Sam was nowhere in sight. So he entered the clerk's office and asked for him.

The old man stared at him curiously. "Gigantor with a touch of puppy?, he asked, squinting his left eye shut.

Dean nodded. "That's him."

"Yeah, told me someone'd ask for him. - Gave you guys number five." He pointed in the opposite direction of the entrance towards the staircase. "Breakfast's from eight to eleven. - Ten bucks extra though, buddy." The older man said, as he watched Dean staring at the shield behind him, where they had written the prices for rooms and food.

Dean was about to turn around and head towards the stairs, when the man behind him cleared his throat. "If I were you, I wouldn't go up there with at least a SORRY on your lips. - It's none of my business ... but-"

The demon glared at him. "You're right. It's none of your business, BUDDY." And with that he took off, thumped up the stairs (more forceful than necessary) and headed down the corridor towards the door with the number five.

When he arrived there, he didn't bother to try and open it without knocking. He owed Sam that much.

"'s open!" he heard Sam's muffled voice from the other side.

When he entered, his gaze immediately flew towards the both queen-sized beds on either side of the room. Something he thought they didn't need anymore. - Then again, he could understand why the hunter chose separate beds ... He wouldn't share a bed with Dean Winchester – this was a sign for his disapproval.

Sam sat on the one furthest from the door and was rummaging through his duffel.

Dean opened his mouth and closed it again, not quite sure what he was supposed to say. He knew what all of this had to look like to Sam and he wasn't entirely sure if anything he would say right now would convince the hunter of the opposite.

"Look ... I know what this must've looked like ... and-" Dean wanted to try it anyway.

"No. - Just ... no, Dean." Sam's voice sounded off. Thin and silent. He didn't look up either. "I understand. I really do. You don't have to explain yourself to me."

"Sam you don't understand. - It was nothing, okay? - I know what it must have looked like. It's ... I'm sorry I forgot about the time ... I'm sorry I didn't pick you up ..." He had to try – no matter what. "It's not easy, Sam. It's not easy for me to ... to do THAT. I ... I suck at that whole shit about relationships ... I ... I just needed someone to talk to ... someone who's not _us_."

"I said: It's fine. - Don't bother." Sam came up with empty hands from the duffel and shoved it from his lap, down on the carpet. "You don't have to worry about SHIT like that anymore, okay?" Now he looked up, straight into the demon's eyes.

Dean swallowed hard around the giant lump in his throat as he saw the hunter's red rimmed, watery eyes and half-dried tears all over his face. He felt something heavy grow in his stomach, that dared to pull him right back into the firy pit his soul had been born in. "I didn't mean it like that, Sam – I just ...", he stammered, all of a sudden realizing what just had happened. "I can't ... I'm sorry, I'm so damn sorry ..."

"Dean. Stop it, okay?" He said and started to untie his boots. "I just wanna go to bed."

"If you'd just-" Dean wouldn't give up that easy. He needed to try to explain things.

"What, Dean? Listen?" Sam huffed out a breath. "I'm sorry, but I'm cold and tired and I sure as hell don't wanna listen to your excuses right now. NOT. RIGHT. NOW. Dean. I froze my ass off there! You didn't pick up, nor texted back! Obviously you didn't even THINK about me, nor BOTHER." He took a deep inhale. "I was worried sick about you! I thought god-knew-what happened! I thought you were hurt or ... or ... whatever." Sam threw his boots towards the table and shoved the comforter back. "And then I see you at that DAMN BAR, flirting with a chick! - What would you think, huh?" he gave Dean a glare, before he crawled under the comforter.

THAT was enough. He wouldn't let Sam talk to him like that. Not when nothing had happened, or was going to happen with Carla.

"At least you know how it feels when your partner is nowhere to be found! Besides ... What were your intentions to go in that damn bar anyway? Is that the way you'd have looked for me? - Because I'm pretty sure, that if that damn spell would've gone south you wouldn't have found me in a bar, **princess**!" Dean yelled back. "So don't you dare and put that on me!" He took harsh short inhales, in an attempt to cool his temper down. "Don't you dare tell me how bad I am, if you ain't a bit better! When you're not capable of handling an hour or two outside, when it's not even THAT cold, then I'm sorry, but you're sure as hell not a damn HUNTER!" His eyes narrowed dangerously. Something in the demon's face changed. His expression turned bitterly cold. "It's your own fault that we're here anyway! It's on YOU that I'm like this!", Dean's voice grew calmer now. He gestured with his hands into the air, his chest heaving frantically. "You wanted me, didn't you?! Now you have me! The real me! The DEMON-me! So deal with it, or leave, bitch. But DON'T YOU DARE put that whole mess on me, because it's not like I pushed you into it, did I? I never promised you I'd be faithful towards you." Dean didn't even think about what he was saying. Somehow the filter between his head and mouth were gone and everything blurted out of it before he could do anything to stop himself.

Sam lay there – frozen in place – under the comforter, unable to move for a very long moment, before he turned around a bit and glanced at Dean, with this giant watery puppy-dog-eyes and a hurt expression in them. Real, deeply hurt expression. As if the demon had just hit a weak spot.

An expression on Sam's face, that let the demon's temper snap back into place again and made him regret his words the very next moment.

Dean's features grew softer again and the tension in his shoulders seemed to fade away. "I'm ... Sammy, I didn't want to ..."

But the hunter didn't let him continue. He turned back on his side and Dean could see how he tightened his hold on the comforter. "Screw you, Winchester." was all Sam would say – and nothing more.

_... to be continued_

* * *

_I should've rather killed her ... _

_this is cruel ... _

_she needs an update like yesterday ... _

_that's what my beta said. _

_may I should say, that I'm sorry ... but i can't_

_A/N: okay, I'm off to hospital on sunday for a surgery on monday 22nd. _

_IF I survive (what I hopefully will) I'll be back. IF not ... well, I'm sorry folks, but you know I do happy endings ;)_

_give me 4 weeks for the first update after the 22nd. IF there won't be one, I hope someone of you is going to finish this story for me ;)_


	19. Chapter 19 Come To Me

**Thanks to my awesome BETA: gothpandaotaku**

**THANK YOU to all my reviewers & favorites & followers. **

**You guys see I'm back, so apparently I survived the surgery ^^**

**on with the story: **

* * *

_**Obsidian ~ Raise A Little Hell**_

**The Road So Far:**

_"At least you know how it feels when your partner is nowhere to be found! Besides ... What were your intentions to go in that damn bar anyway? Is that the way you'd have looked for me? - Because I'm pretty sure, that if that damn spell would've gone south you wouldn't have found me in a bar, _**_princess_**_!" Dean yelled back. "So don't you dare put that on me!" He took harsh short inhales, in an attempt to cool his temper down. "Don't you dare tell me how bad I am, if you ain't a bit better! When you're not capable of handling an hour or two outside, when it's not even THAT cold, then I'm sorry, but you're sure as hell not a damn HUNTER!" His eyes narrowed dangerously. Something in the demon's face changed. His expression turned bitterly cold. "It's your own fault that we're here anyway! It's on YOU that I'm like this!" Dean's voice grew calmer now. He gestured with his hands into the air, his chest heaving frantically. "You wanted me, didn't you?! Now you have me! The real me! The DEMON-me! So deal with it, or leave, bitch. But DON'T YOU DARE put that whole mess on me, because it's not like I pushed you into it, did I? I never promised you I'd be faithful towards you." Dean didn't even think about what he was saying. Somehow the filter between his head and mouth were gone and everything blurted out of it before he could do anything to stop himself._

_Sam lay there – frozen in place – under the comforter, unable to move for a very long moment, before he turned around a bit and glanced at Dean, with this giant watery puppy-dog-eyes and a hurt expression in them. Real, deeply hurt expression. As if the demon had just hit a weak spot._

_An expression on Sam's face, that let the demon's temper snap back into place again and made him regret his words the very next moment._

_Dean's features grew softer again and the tension in his shoulders seemed to fade away. "I'm ... Sammy, I didn't want to ..."_

_But the hunter didn't let him continue. He turned back on his side and Dean could see how he tightened his hold on the comforter. "Screw you, Winchester." was all Sam would say – and nothing more._

* * *

_**Chapter 19 ~ Come To Me**_

Things became worse after that night three weeks ago.

Sam was keeping to himself more now. He felt betrayed and dirty and filthy and – somehow – used. He thought a lot about the words that had come from Dean that night in the motel. And he came to the conclusion, that the demon might be right. That he had been wanting too much from him ...

That THING between the both of them would've never worked. Not like Sam had imagined.

What had started off as a promising relationship, had stopped dead in its tracks all of a sudden. Just because Sam couldn't get himself to ask Dean if he had decided to forget about their relationship, or whatever problem it was which made him hesitate.

Just because Dean wasn't capable of taking the final step, nor talking about his issues with the one person it would've been important to talk to.

After that night everything seemed unnecessary anyway.

And now? Now it seemed like it was too late for everything. Now that Dean Winchester had decided that he could do things right and that he was going to seduce Samuel Campbell to talk to him, he realized that he couldn't. Because it WAS too late. Because Sam wouldn't look at him anymore in the same way. Because things between them had just CHANGED and it felt like there was no going back to where they were before.

Things had gotten cold between the both of them, as if their love had died in its ashes over night. Something that hurt the both of them, but neither was able to show it to the other one. Both had their pride. Both had their shame. Both were stubborn as hell.  
Both were grown men who weren't able to talk about what they felt and were about to screw things up immensely.

On Sam's demand, they got separate rooms from then on, whenever they stopped at a motel to get sleep and rest.

They talked with each other about the usual stuff regarding hunting, just without the teasing and bantering. They'd look at each other, but only when they thought the other wasn't. At least their purpose still seemed to be the same. Finding Alistair's lair and taking him out. At least Dean Winchester thought so ...

* * *

It came to the day when they made a stop in some small shithole-town somewhere around nowhere, to hole up for a day or two and plan out how to get Alistair where they wanted.

The last hunt for a higher-ranked demon had gone well. They knew where to find that damn bastard. Though they hadn't come away from the fight unharmed. While Dean's bruises and gashes were already starting to heal (after just two hours) and were barely visible anymore, Sam's ribs and skull stung and thumped rhythmically to his heartbeat from getting flung into walls brutally.

Dean chose to get off the highway at the next best chance he got and pulled up in the parking lot of some lonely motel before they even had a chance to pass the sign welcoming them to Lawrence, Kansas.

The demon was stealing worried glances at the backseat, where Sam had laid down and stretched out as good as he could. The hunter was holding his ribs with one arm and his head with the other one and his eyes were squeezed shut.

"You okay back there?" Dean asked, his voice business-like and for a matter of fact the first time he asked ever since he had dragged the hunter back to their car. THEIR car, because it wasn't just Dean's anymore. He saw it as THEIR vehicle, even when it actually belonged to him and not to Samuel Campbell.

"'m fine," Sam answered through gritted teeth. "I've had worse."

Dean huffed out a laugh. "Sure you have." Something that didn't comfort him in any way. "I'm takin' you to the closest hospital, Sam. Can't take any chances on this one." Dean inhaled and glanced into the rearview mirror once more. "Banged your head pretty bad there."

"Dude. - Shut up and just get me a room where I can lay down," Sam muttered, annoyed.

"The hell I will!" Dean yelled angrily. He couldn't watch this anymore. It didn't just hurt – it was dangerous. "You've a damn freakin' concussion and there's no way that your ribs are just bruised. So don't give me that shit. I gotta check on you at least every other hour."

"The hell you are! No way I'm going into a freakin' hospital!" Sam yelled back and instantly regretted raising his voice like that. "There's no damn reason to motherhen me ... You do your thing – I'm gonna get some rest."

"Sam," he said warningly. "Can't we just ... Look ..." He sighed deeply. "Can you do me a favor and forget about that attitude of yours for the next twenty-four hours and give me a chance to look out for you?"

Sam's eyes blinked open. That sounded pretty different from how the demon talked to him lately. He glanced towards the front seats, trying to move his head as little as possible.

"C'mon Sammy ... give me a chance here ..." Dean didn't need to look in the mirror to see that Sam was looking in his direction. "Let me help you ..." He thrust his jaw forward and killed the engine of his baby.

"Are we here?" was all Sam said – though shaky and somehow unstable sounding.

"Yeah ..." Dean said surrendering, "... we're here ..."

Dean knew he should take him to a hospital. He should. But he also understood Sam. Hospitals always asked questions – that was one of the reasons why he hadn't headed towards one right away.

Sam groaned in response. He didn't feel like moving at all. All he wanted was to sleep right there on the backseat, no matter how uncomfortable it was. No matter what would happen, no matter if he'd die right then. He couldn't care less.

He felt himself drifting off, when he suddenly felt the door his feet were resting against give way. Cool air streamed into the car and sent a tingling sensation over the few bare spots of his skin. Then there was a pair of calloused hands reaching for his shoulders and were helping him to sit up. Sam swayed in his sitting position and his upper body leaned forward.

"Whoa whoa – slow, Sammy. Take it slow" came a gentle voice and a warm exhale right next to his ear. "I'm gonna help you."

As soon – which took pretty much all the way until he was out of the car and on his own feet – as he realized who was helping him there, he tried to turn out of the iron grip Dean had him in.

"Nope, Sam. - You're gonna let me help you, or so help me god ..." Dean hissed through gritted teeth and he pulled the man up against his side and guided him towards their room at the very end of the row of motel rooms. He manhandled Sam onto the bed as soon as he had managed to open the door and hold Sam upright with just one hand.

The hunter obeyed – not that he had a lot of a choices here anyway. He let Dean take off his boots and help him out of the jacket. It sucked to be human ... it sucked to be a hunter ... it sucked to be in love with someone who didn't love him back. Life sucked in general, so why bother to survive when there was nothing to fight for? Okay, there was the world and humanity and this whole "Saving people, hunting things" thing ... but other than that? Honestly now ... was it truly worth it? Was it worth to live that life, knowing that he wouldn't ever have one on his own as long as he was a hunter?

Everyone in this business knew that a hunter's life was limited. Almost none of them retired, or managed to build up a normal life ... most of them died during the hunt ... And Sam wasn't sure which one he wanted to be ...

"Groundcontrol to Sam," Dean said louder, snapping his fingers in front of Sam's eyes.

Which gained the hunter's attention.

"You're zoning out on me again, and I don't give a shit about what you want," Dean said worriedly, though not sure if Sam even understood him at the moment. "You hear me?"

The hunter's eyes were unfocused and misty – clear signs of a severe concussion.

Sam nodded. Sure he had understood. He wasn't a gimp, he just had gotten his head banged.

"Good. I'm gonna check on your ribs, see if something's cracked or even broken," the demon informed him silently.

"It's nothin'. Go out or something. Get a hot chick to blow your dick or nail her in a back-alley. - Just leave me alone," Sam glared at him dangerously. "Why even bother?"

Dean huffed out a breath in disbelief and took a deep inhale to get his boiling temper to calm down a bit before he'd answer. "Why even bother? Damn it, Sam! Because I love you, okay? - Because I damn freaking love you more than I'd ever loved anything in my entire life and you just ... you just won't listen. For once I wanna talk – and you don't listen, Sam." He couldn't do this anymore. That side of Sam, that was pushing him away constantly – it was killing him from the inside. First he had thought it was good to give him some room and such. But it was getting ridiculous. This had to end, before either of them did something real stupid. Hadn't he proved himself the past three weeks? Hadn't he tried to make it right again? To fix what he had broken?

"I care about you, bitch. I care more about you more than I have ever cared about someone else." He huffed out a breath and wiped over his face with one hand. His voice grew soft and smooth and loving."And you know what? - I hate it. I hate that I couldn't tell you that three weeks ago. I hate that I wasn't able to just do as I said. Because I damn freaking couldn't, Sam. I wanted it to be special and I have no clue how to make it special for you ..." For the first time ever since he had seen his family die, he had tears glistening in his eyes. "So NO. There wasn't anything going on between me and that bartender, Sam. - We were talking about a gay couple, of whom one of the men had the same problems as me." He sniffed – he couldn't look at Sam right now ... couldn't stand the chance to get one of those judging looks he had earned before. "It's not because I don't want you, or that I lied to you in any aspect ... and I'm sorry for yelling at you and telling you that it's all your fault. I'm sorry for accusing you of being the problem. Not when it's all on me ..." He bit down on his lower lip and closed his eyes, slightly turned away from the bed Sam was lying on.

The hunter looked at him, completely speechless and wondering, with a slight flush on his face. "I'm sorry, Dean," he said silently. "I ... I ..." Sam squeezed his eyes shut. Not just because his head was hurting like a bitch, but also to get rid of the double-vision.

"I was an idiot, Sam," Dean muttered, without turning around. "And I'm sorry. I should've told you in the first place, instead of trying to figure it out by myself ..." Either they were talking it out now, or things wouldn't get any better and in the end they'd split up and never see each other again. Something, that Dean Winchester didn't want, so he talked.

"Dean .." Sam said, swallowing thickly.

"No, Sam. - It's my turn to talk and yours to listen. So listen," Dean said calmly. "I wanna make this right. It has to be perfect, Sammy. I don't wanna mess this up – I didn't want to mess this up. That's why I messed it up in the first place." He sucked in his lower lip and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I want you. I want no one else but YOU –"

"Dean," this time it sounded more pleading, but the demon didn't turn around, nor let Sam have a word in this.

"Sam. - Listen. I can't tell you this twice. I've gotta get this out now, or I swear I'm gonna explode ... So just listen, 'kay?" He took a deep inhale. "No matter how weird that sounds to me or to you ... I don't want anyone else. I want you to be my partner. My friend ... my _everything_. Despite the fact that I'm a demon and that ... that something dark in me wants me to just bend you over that damn bed and pound you into oblivion ... I can't. - I don't want to FUCK you, Sam. I wanna make LOVE to you ..."

"Dean – please," it sounded rather pained this time.

He had to sound pained enough to finally get Dean's attention and make him turn around, just to see how pale Sam's face had gotten, that he was sweating like hell and that he was desperately trying to get up from the bed.

The very next moment, Dean Winchester was beside him and helped him to sit up on the edge of the bed, as he started to heave and retch and finally puked all over Dean's shirt, jeans and shoes and down onto the carpet.

The demon sucked in a sharp breath and brought some more inches in between Sam and himself, but didn't let go of his shoulders. "Shit ... Sammy ..."

Sam sucked in quick shallow breaths as the nausea ebbed away, even when his lungs longed for more oxygen than just the bit he was actually capable of getting into them. He held with one hand onto Dean's side, fisting a hand full of the man's leather-jacket in it. "Sorry," The hunter slurred, panting.

"Why don't you ... uhh ... just lay back?" he asked, insecure.

Sam nodded.

"Good ... I'll go and ... I think first thing is to get you a bucket ... and then ..." He looked helplessly at his own clothes and the pool of puke ont he carpet. "then I'm gonna get some fresh clothes and clean up the mess?"

Sam's forehead was creased a bit and his eyes were screwed up in pain. Though he managed to give the man a short nod.

Dean hurried up to get dressed in a fresh set of clothes and dumped the dirty ones and his boots in the shower stall. He then wetted a towel and snatched a dry one from the retainer before he went back to the bed, where he realized that he had forgotten about the bucket.

So he dumped the towels on the nightstand and vanished in the bathroom again, just to come back out seconds later with the bucket, which he placed right beside Sam's head on the floor. He hurried up to get the carpet cleaned (at least as good as he could) and then went to get some Gatorade from the vendor outside.

"Wanna wash your mouth out?" Dean asked, as he popped the bottle open.

The hunter gave him a short nod, and Dean helped him to sit up a bit and let him take a sip from the blue liquid, so that Sam could rinse his mouth.

"Better?" he asked, when he eased the hunter down onto the mattress and earned a pained moan. "Good." It was not good, but he knew that Sam had to feel better, now that his stomach was empty. "I have to check on your ribs though ... just to be sure, Sam."

Dean wouldn't let Sam disagree. The hunter had to know that it was important.

Sam's eyes fluttered open and he gave the demon a short nod, reaching for the front of his shirt and started to unbutton the buttons slowly, with shaky hands.

Dean let him and waited patiently, until the hunter was done. Then he brushed the fabric aside and dragged his fingers over Sam's ribcage, his eyes on the man's face. There weren't even bruises at his front, though a bit of purple and blue peaked out at the hunter's right side and Dean urged him to turn over a bit.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he exclaimed, upset. It wasn't the hunter's ribs that made the demon uneasy – it was his back and parts of his flank that looked like Sam had been used as a punching-bag.

"Half bad," Sam muttered breathlessly.

"I know – you've had worse." Dean ground his teeth together and let Sam roll back on his back. "Doesn't feel like something's broken. Gonna hurt like a bitch though, Sammy. - A week downtime for YOU." He caught the younger man's glare and stared back at him seriously.

Sam opened his mouth to protest. There was no way he'd let Dean go out there on his own and try to hunt down Alistair.

"You're of no help like that. Seriously." Dean said calmly. "You'd get the both of us killed like that. So we're gonna lay low." He cleared his throat and sighed. "We need to work on a plan to lure Alistair out anyway."

Sam nodded and let his eyes flutter shut as fatigue overtook him.

"Gonna let you get some rest ..." he said insecurely and pursed his lips pensively, "... I'll be here so ... if you need something – ANYTHING – just holler." Dean's gaze lingered on the younger man a little bit longer and he was about to turn around, when he felt long fingers curl around his hand, which held him back.

"Stay?" Sam's eyes were open again, but Dean could tell that it was a giant effort for Sam to keep them that way.

"I'm here." Dean gave him a weak smile.

"No ... stay here ..." Sam let go of the demon's hand and started to inch aside carefully to make some space on the bed. "here – with me ..."

Dean looked at him as if he wasn't completely serious about what he was saying.

Big puppy-like hazel-eyes blinked up at him. "Please."

"Dude – shut it." He sighed and sniffed, shaking his head in defeat with a wary smile on his lips.. "And stay where you are, before you fall off the bed and break something."

Sam smiled at him. Because he knew that this was Dean's way of telling him that he would come into his bed and stay with him – at least for the moment ...

Dean climbed on the bed and laid down. It was a tight fit, but okay though. - It meant something that Sam was letting him lie there. Closer than they had been for the past three weeks. Not only that they were in the same room now, they even shared a bed.

"I thought you decided that you wouldn't want ... THAT." Sam pointed with his finger in between himself and Dean. "'m sorry I didn't listen ..."

"Shut up and rest, Sammy." Despite the roughness of his voice, the words were spoken gentle. Dean sneaked his arm over Sam's waist.

Sam let him.

Soon the hunter drifted off to sleep, just to get woken up an hour later.

"C'mon. - Open your eyes and say somethin'," Dean said calmly and rubbed circles into the hunter's stomach to get him to wake up. "You won't open your eyes, I'm gonna take you to the hospital, bitch." he rather growled than spoke.

Sam mumbled something incoherent.

"That wasn't good enough. I wanna hear what you're sayin' and I wanna see your pretty girly eyes.", Dean teased with a worried smile.

Sam's eyes fluttered open slowly and he cleared his throat gingerly. Everything around him was dark. Just a small source of light, that came through the window right next to the door of their room, enlightened it a bit.

"Why not heal me? Fix me up and we can go ...", Sam said louder and more clear.

The demon sighed deeply. "Wish I could, baby boy." Dean couldn't help himself from calling him that. "It was just a spell. - And I don't have any of the ingredients with me." He explained calmly. "I wish I did though ... it'd be useful – specially with you as my trusty CLUMSY sidekick – The Moose-Puppy-Man." Dean grinned widely.

Despite Sam's condition, he managed to glare first and throw a bitchface later. "Fuck you too, Babyface Winchester."

"I see ... you're on the mend." Dean exclaimed and laid his head back on the pillow – a bit closer to Sam's. "Always with that girly attitude of yours ... Babyface Winchester? Really?"

"Could've also called you Glitter-Stripper or somethin'." Sam smirked with closed eyes. "Or 'The Clap'? ... Don't know ... the concussion's doin' a thing on me here ..."

"Figured," Dean said. "Makes you even girlier than usual."

"Fuck you, Dean," Sam mumbled – already half asleep.

That was as close to normality as it was even possible for the both of them. At least it was a start, wasn't it? Maybe – despite the bad concussion – Sam'd remember what Dean had said earlier. At least the knight of hell hoped so ...

* * *

Dean had paid ahead of time for three whole days and maybe he'd extend that. Besides the fact, that they would just TOO SOON face one of hell's most cruel demons, Dean also didn't count on surviving. He never had counted on surviving.

He wanted those – presumably – last days to be special. To be okay. He wanted those days to be just perfect and he wanted Sam to be with him.

Not that it was that easy for him to die anyway. - But he had found out something about himself, that'd stop Alistair from taking him over through a spell. Not just by killing the demon. But rather through killing himself.

That had been his plan B all those months ago, when he had first kidnapped Samuel Campbell. If the ritual would go south, he had planned on committing suicide. Not by slicing his wrists, hanging himself or drinking some poison. Nope. He wore a small flask with black potion in the inner pocket of his beloved leather jacket, which was specially made for him by an old witch.

It was fail-safe.

THAT was high likely one of the reasons why he didn't feel bothered about Alistair and his quest on getting his hands on another black bone – because he knew that he'd be able to stop it at any time. Any moment.

Why he hadn't done it right then? Dean didn't know. Maybe he was kind of holding onto his life. Maybe it had been because of the hunter? Or maybe he just hadn't given up yet.

Who knew?

* * *

Dean woke Sam every hour until the early morning. When he woke him the last time, and Sam just glared at him and told him to go where the peppers were growing, the demon grinned from ear to ear and let him drift off to sleep again, without the usual "put your left pointing finger to your nose". He decided to not wake him up again and let him get some proper sleep – after all he deserved nothing less for not punching Dean in the face after a night of hourly wakings.

Sam hadn't puked again either, which was definitely a damn good sign. One that let Dean relax a bit too. The hunter didn't look like he would be freaking out at any time either – so maybe Sam remembered what he had told him earlier.

"Sammy," Dean brushed a strand of chestnut-brown hair behind the hunter's ear and traced with his fingertips down his neck and over the spot where he could feel the man's pulsating artery pump precious blood through his veins. "I'm so sorry ... for all I've done ... and for all I'm about to do soon ..." he whispered gently and closed his eyes, laying his hand back on the hunter's stomach.

Sam didn't hear any of the demon's cryptic words ...

_... to be continued_


	20. Chapter 20 The Vision

**THANKS to my always awesome BETA gothpandaotaku.**

**I figured that y'all deserve an update, since my beta managed to send the corrected version tonight, huh?**

* * *

_**Obsidian ~ Raise A Little Hell**_

**The Road So Far:**

_Dean woke Sam every hour until the early morning. When he woke him the last time, and Sam just glared at him and told him to go where the peppers were growing, the demon grinned from ear to ear and let him drift off to sleep again, without the usual "put your left pointing finger to your nose". He decided to not wake him up again and let him get some proper sleep – after all he deserved nothing less for not punching Dean in the face after a night of hourly wakings._

_Sam hadn't puked again either, which was definitely a damn good sign. One that let Dean relax a bit too. The hunter didn't look like he would be freaking out at any time either – so maybe Sam remembered what he had told him earlier._

_"Sammy," Dean brushed a strand of chestnut-brown hair behind the hunter's ear and traced with his fingertips down his neck and over the spot where he could feel the man's pulsating artery pump precious blood through his veins. "I'm so sorry ... for all I've done ... and for all I'm about to do soon ..." he whispered gently and closed his eyes, laying his hand back on the hunter's stomach._

_Sam didn't hear any of the demon's cryptic words ..._

* * *

_**Chapter 20 ~ The Vision**_

Sam did remember every single word Dean had said. He remembered everything. He also remembered to tell the demon to stay. With him. In the same bed. AND he remembered being woken all the damn time.

"Bout time you woke up," the hunter heard a voice, that sounded from far away, though familiar. "Wasn't sure which one's better for your stomach, so I brought pancakes, scrambled eggs, toast, coffee, hot chocolate ..." The demon sighed, obviously nervous.

"You're here ..." came muffled from the pillow. Sam's eyes weren't even open yet.

"Well, you ... you kind of invited me to stay ..." Dean braced himself for a buttload of names and being thrown out from the room.

Sam swallowed. His mouth felt dry and his tongue furry – the taste as if something had died in his mouth was omnipresent and dared to invade his nose.

"I know, Dean," he muttered and blinked his eyes open slowly. "I wanted you to stay- I _didn't_ want you to leave ..." Now he looked into the demon's direction with a faint smile, his eyelids still heavy.

First Dean seemed surprised, but then he smiled back at Sam, giving him a short nod. He wasn't quite sure if Sam was embarrassed or if he just didn't know how to tell Dean that THAT had been yesterday night, and today was TODAY and that he had changed his mind about him.

"I still want you to stay," the hunter broke through the demon's whirring thoughts. "Because I think ... I love you too."

Their gazes locked over the distance for a long moment.

"I'd ... maybe you could help me up?" Sam bit his lower lip – his bladder was about to burst and he would soon be going to puke if that sour taste wouldn't vanish from his mouth.

Dean closed the distance between them and helped the hunter sit up. Sam groaned and squeezed his eyes shut. The sudden change in elevation made his head spin and stomach churn.

He knew that the second day was worse than the first... and it always felt even more painful.

"Take it slow, baby boy, would you?" Dean's arm was around the man's shoulder in an instant, so that he didn't need to hold himself up on his own.

Sam blew out a shuddering breath and closed his eyes before he filled his lungs with oxygen again. At least THAT didn't hurt as bad. He reached up at the man before him and tangled his finger's in Dean's shirt in an attempt to hold onto something and stop the spinning in his head.

"Shit," the hunter groaned.

The demon helped Sam to his feet then and they crossed the space in between the bed and the bathroom in a slow and steady pace. Once inside, Dean held Sam under an armpit, while he awkwardly tried to open the fly of his jeans and the zipper on his own. When Sam had finally managed that, he pushed the jeans and boxers down to his knees and let himself - rather fall than sink - on the toilet.

The sudden change in height made Sam's head spin once again and his vision swim even more, so that he laid his hands on his head.

It was reeking of puke in there. Sour and bitter. Sam wrinkled his nose at the scent, though he said nothing about it, since he knew that it smelled like that because of him. Because he had vomited all over Dean's clothes the night before, and because Dean had stayed with him through it.

Sam could live with the smell – they could go to a laundromat later and get the demon's clothes washed.

Though, holding his head didn't make the situation any better. What made him feel better, was the strong hand which held him by his shoulder, and took care that he wouldn't fall from the bowl on either side.

It took Sam quite some time to manage and focus on the task at hand: Emptying his bladder. It took him some time anyway, since he wasn't used to have company while taking care of his business. When he was done, Dean helped him back on his feet wordlessly.

"Hold onto the sink," Dean said silently and gestured at it. The sink was right beside the toilet, so the hunter had to do nothing but reach aside to grab it with his eyes closed.

Sam did as he was told and Dean let go of him, just so he could squat down and pull the hunter's jeans and pants back up in one go and close them again. The older man's hands lingered on Sam's hips and he rubbed with his thumbs over the space right above Sam's waistband.

"You good?" Dean's voice was low and soft.

Sam nodded, not able to focus on holding onto the sink and talk at the same time. He felt the demon's hands on his hips, the closeness between their bodies and it was like he got drawn towards him, as if some invisible bond was pulling him closer to the other body. The hunter felt himself leaning forward slightly and Dean reacted instinctively and closed the small gap between the both of them with a tiny shift.

Sam allowed himself to lean into him and bury his face in the shorter man's crook of his neck. He drew in a long deep breath of his scent and let go from the sink, to lay his arm around his neck.

"Better," the hunter murmured hoarsely and he could hear the demon chuckle.

He felt the hands on his hips move towards his lower back. One of them slid up along his spine gently, until it was resting on the back of his head. Dean shifted again – just a little bit and buried his fingers in the long curly hair.

"Definitely better," Dean agreed softly, letting himself feel the heat which radiated from the taller man's form. "Much better."

Sam smiled into the fabric of Dean's shirt.

They stood like that for quite some time, until Dean brought some distance between them. "C'mon, baby boy," he practically purred, "You gotta eat, drink and get some pain killers into you." The hand resting on the man's head found it's way to Sam's face and he cupped his cheek.

The hunter blinked his eyes open, his look instantly caught by two big sparkling circles of emerald. He smiled a bit, though it was a sad smile. "I'd like to take a shower first ..."

Dean wasn't fond of that idea – something that mirrored in his face. "You don't stink yet. I think you can live without showering for another day."

Sam sniffed and tilted his head to the side slightly. "Please?"

"You can stand alone for ten minutes without toppling over, or swaying?" Dean asked with a concerned frown.

Sam cast his look down.

"Thought so." The demon cleared his throat.

"You could ... maybe ..." Sam looked up again.

Dean looked at him, questioning. His manhood gave a twitch of what he – internally – hoped Sam would be suggesting.

A reddish color tainted the hunter's cheeks.

The shorter man began to smirk. "Want me to get in with you?" There was something playful in his voice.

Sam's face became a deeper red. "Duh ...", he breathed shyly. "That's ... what I thought we could do?" He sniffed.

Both knew that the hunter wasn't that helpless. He surely would find a way to take a shower without help and with a lot of time. But neither of them wanted that. Sam didn't have to say a single word.

The next moment, Dean was close to him again and working the buttons of the hunter's shirt open from bottom to top. His fingertips brushed along the tanned skin beyond, as he brushed the fabric from Sam's shoulders.

The hunter let him, holding onto the sink, when Dean started to work on his jeans.

When Sam was all naked, Dean got to work on his own clothes, never leaving his eyes from the younger man, taking in his strong thighs and the sharpness of his hip bones.

Neither of them was saying a word.

Sam watched the man getting undressed. His grip tightened, when Dean's jeans fell down and revealed the gentle curve of his lower back and butt. He licked his lower lip and cast his look away, when Dean turned back to him, to take his hand from the sink.

The hunter followed him carefully and slightly swaying into the shower-stall, where he leaned against the cool tiles with his back. Dean handled the water, until it was close to hot and turned around to face the hunter again – who looked mildly embarrassed.

Sam couldn't believe, that Dean didn't give a damn about his dignity. Because Sam on the other hand, covered his private parts with his open palms, so to not to stand there completely unprotected from Dean's few.

Dean stared right in THAT direction for quite some time, before he sighed longingly and cast his look up at Sam's face. "You won't get to shower over there, Sammy," he didn't say it in that cocky attitude he usually spoke in. It was soft and warm and maybe a bit joking.

Sam grinned. He had to grin. And then he moved forward a bit and towards Dean, who was inching back to make some space for the hunter under the spray of hot water. Though Sam did never remove his hands from in front of himself.

"Sammy," Dean breathed, and laid his left hand on the hunter's cheek, while he moved a bit closer.

Sam leaned into the gentle touch and felt as another hand came to rest on his waist. He let himself being pulled flush against the older man's body. He let himself feel the heat and slickness of the other man's skin.

"Lets make this quick," the demon murmured. For Sam's sake and for his own. It wasn't like he didn't enjoy THIS – but Sam was still injured and neither had come clean about themselves either.

Sam didn't make an attempt to give the man space. Instead he wrapped his long arms around Dean and nuzzled into the crook of his neck, closing the gap between them again.

"I don't want it quick," he whispered. He trailed with his tongue over the demon's neck and sucked gently. "I wanna stay here ... with you ... like this ..."

Rather surprised about the sudden change of emotions in the hunter, Dean frowned, but leaned further into the taller man. He had expected a lot, but sure as hell not THAT. So yeah –if the ground beneath his feet would swallow him whole for it – he'd rather go to hell than deny Sam the closeness he was longing for. Both of them were longing for.

"Sam ..." he breathed and closed his eyes, letting Sam kiss and suck on his sensitive skin. He felt his own manhood grow and getting hard at the tender ministrations of the taller man.

Sam pushed with his hips into Dean's and earned a guttural moan for it. The older man's hands settled on either side of his waist and his fingers dug into his skin.

The hunter made a sound somewhere between a moan and a whimper, as the silken flesh of his erection slid over Dean's wet belly. The demon's hands found their way to the back and further down to the firmly built, parted muscle and gripped him there, pushing up at him.

Without Dean knowing how it happened, he found his lips covered by Sam's the very next moment and a sneaky tongue was worming its way inside his mouth. Just then he gave in and parted his lips, letting Sam in and let him map his mouth gently and slow, while they were rutting against each other.

Dean swallowed the younger man's moans, so did Sam swallow the demon's sounds.

Suddenly, Sam became slower and more tentative, until he pulled away completely. Even one of his hands vanished from Dean's back. His eyes were slammed shut and he was holding the side of his head with one hand, when Dean opened his eyes to see what the hunter had let pull back.

Sam made an attempt to withdraw back even more and – as it seemed – to get away from the older man, but Dean was holding him tightly.

"Sammy?" he asked, his lips swollen and bruised and his voice wrecked.

Sam tried to push him away again, but Dean didn't give in. He just stood there and held him firmly, well aware of the concussion the hunter had.

"Sam ... talk to me," he said, now more concerned than aroused, "Shit. What is it? Sam?"

But the hunter was too far gone. All he heard was the muffled voice of Dean Winchester between loud thumps in his ears and blinding flashes of light, that tore through his vision. Searing pain lanced through his forehead and then through his whole skull, before the light was fading and he was seeing Dean.  
They weren't in the shower anymore. They were in some warehouse by the looks of it. Dean was dressed and wore a sorrowful expression on his face, as he held a little flask in his left hand. He was looking right into Sam's direction, when he said something. Though, like in all visions, Sam wasn't able to hear what was being said, nor could he ask what was going on.

All he was able to do was to watch and try to memorize as much as he possibly could.

Dean was turning away from him, making a few steps towards the middle of the room, when he stopped and turned back around. He was saying something, but this time, Sam focused on his lips, but all he could make out was "you shouldn't", "come", "too late" and "sorry, Sammy" and then this Dean was unscrewing the small flask – a silvery shining bottle.

Dean looked wrecked and tired and so god damn sorry and then he was setting the flask to his lips and drank – whatever it was – down. The very next moment, the silvery bottle fell from his hands and he seemed to gasp and was gripping the left side of his chest. The Winchester sank to his knees, his eyes wet, as he was obviously hurting.

Something dark was growing under his skin, as if whatever he had drunk was tainting his blood black and became visible through his skin as it spread.

All Sam could do was to watch and see as Dean slumped backwards to the floor and didn't move anymore.

That moment he knew. HE KNEW, that Dean was dead. Real dead – like the demon shouldn't be. Dean Winchester – a knight of hell – shouldn't be able to die, but he was. The body on the ground nothing more than a motionless shell ...

For a long moment it felt as if the world was standing still, and then another flash of light tore through his vision and the pain was back. Suddenly, he felt his own knees going weak and again searing hot pain lanced through his skull, as if to say that the vision was over.

Dean had been talking to him the entire three minutes and forty-seven seconds the vision lasted. He had shook him, tried to get a coherent answer from him, but there had been nothing. Just Sam's, in pain lying features, his squeezed shut eyes and the pained cry that ripped from the hunter's throat.

"Sammy ... c'mon man." Dean's hands were on the man's bicep now, holding onto his swaying frame. Everything happened too fast then. As soon as Sam's eyes flew open, his knees gave out and he slipped out of Dean's grip and grumbled to the floor, gasping and panting and holding his head.

Dean spun around and turned the water off. Then he went on his knees beside the hunter, not sure what to do.

"Was it a vision?" he asked then, rather surprised that he even had the idea, since Sam had never seemed to have one ever since they first met.

Sam nodded shakily and tried to sit up, bracing his hands against the tiles beneath him, but his limbs wouldn't obey, at least not instantly. Dean's hands were on him, one cupping his cheek and the other one on his shoulder.

"What did you see?" Dean asked in a hurry, as he let Sam down on the slippery tiles, until he was resting there.

Sam didn't answer. He had heard the man's question, but didn't want to answer just yet, since he didn't know if it was truly something to share. First he had to think about it – throughly.

Dean waited a moment longer, but let it drop. He reached for the towels on the recliner and pulled them off, throwing them over Sam.

"C'mon. - Lets get you back to bed," he whispered and helped Sam up on his feet.

Sam leaned against him all the way to the bed, until he was able to lie down. As soon as he was settled comfortably, Dean busied himself with drying Sam off properly. The demon took delicate care of covering Sam's private parts through all his ministrations and when he was done, he helped him to get in a pair of boxers and a t-shirt.

Dean made a fuss about stuffing pillows and the comforter from his own bed behind Sam's back, so that he would be able to have his breakfast. He pulled the comforter from Sam's bed up the hunter's legs and over to his lap and sat down at the edge, his hand resting high on the man's thigh.

"Maybe ..." He chewed the inside of his cheek. "Maybe we should get you to the ER and get you checked over by a doctor, Sam."

Sam blinked and then shook his head slowly. "I'm good."

"You don't look good." He took in the human's pale face and sharp features.

"I never look good after a vision." He smiled a bit now. "Nothin' a couple of painkillers and food won't fix."

"Yeah, but you also have a concussion," Dean thought loudly. "I'd feel better if we'd get you checked over."

"You're sweet," Sam's smile widened.

Dean frowned and his eyebrows furrowed. _Sweet?_ "Sweet? - Are you freakin' insane? Girls are sweet, hell, kittens and puppies are sweet." He huffed out a breath.

"I know ..." Sam laid his hand over Dean's on his thigh. "You're a big bad demon." He seemed drained, so was his voice. "Though, you're sweet."

Dean grinned and shook his head. "I'm still not sure what to do with you, Sammy." The demon's voice was low and soft. "You're not fine."

Sam's smile faded slowly. "No, I'm not. But I will be."

Dean huffed out a breath in defeat and looked over at the table where their – meanwhile cold – breakfast rested. "Okay ..." He pursed his lips. "Wanna have cold eggs and muffins?" he grinned a bit now. "Got some girly coffee for you too ..."

Sam chuckled and winced. "Painkillers?"

Dean wiggled with his head to the left and right. "Tylenol? Or Morphine?"

"Whatever you've got," Sam muttered sleepily. It wasn't just the remaining headache on top of the one he already got, also his back hurt like a bitch and fatigue was getting its claws into him after the vision.

Dean sighed and smacked his lips. "Fine. - You stay awake. I'm gettin' dressed, get your breakfast and then you're gettin' the painkillers."

Sam nodded at him, while he checked out the butt ass naked man rise from his bed and walk over to his bed and the duffel. When Dean grabbed his jacket, which lay over his bag, something silvery fell to the floor.

Dean bowed down, showing his glorious butt to Sam, though, the hunter glanced suspiciously at the thing that had landed on the floor, just inches out of his sight. The demon obviously tried to hide the thing in his hand, and stuffed it hastily into his duffel.

Sam may have a headache, and his vision wasn't the best at the moment, but he also wasn't that out of it to not perceive the importance of the item. Not when it looked kind of similar to the one he had seen in the vision. So he didn't call him on it. Instead he continued to enjoy the view before him, all muscles and tanned skin, getting covered by denim and plaid. - What a pity.

Though, he couldn't deny the fact, that the vision and what he had seen must have something to do with the ritual, the black bone or Alistair – or something like that. He had a feeling about it he couldn't push away. Then again, he couldn't concentrate enough to think about it any further.

Maybe later, when he felt better, when the headache would be gone and he had slept some more, maybe then he could think about it properly and maybe he could take a look at whatever Dean was busy to hide from him too.

Sam popped in the painkillers first, before he ate a muffin and emptied his coffee, leaving the rest of the breakfast to the Winchester. He stole curious glances at the duffel every now and then, while he fought fatigue with all the energy reserves he had left.

"I'm back in about an hour," Dean said silently, after he had placed a tender kiss on the younger man's forehead, who was barely awake anymore. "Gotta do some laundry ... and get my shoes cleaned ..." Dean sounded hesitant. He wasn't comfortable with leaving the hunter on his own, completely defenseless in this state. Then again, what could possibly happen? The windows and doors were salted, a devil's trap was drawn under the rug in front of the door ... and though ...

"You think you're gonna be alright?" Dean smiled a little at the goofy expression on Sam's face.

The hunter nodded. "Gonna get some sleep while you're gone ..." Sam muttered sleepily.

Dean bowed down above him and laid his lips over Sam's, who kissed him back – just a little.

"I'll be back in an hour." Dean whispered and gave the man a peck on his lips.

Not that Sam was aware of a lot anymore. The painkillers seemed to kick in finally and tore the hunter into a fitful healing sleep.

* * *

Dean was back an hour later like promised. He even managed to pick up something from the chinese restaurant around the corner (well, not right around the corner, but he knew that Sam liked chinese, so he made his way to the other end of town and back to the motel in no time). When he entered their room, Sam was still out cold and snored softly.

He didn't wake him though. Dean tiptoed around the room, so not to wake Sam, when he checked on his duffel and made sure that his plan B was still where it should be. Then he put the small flask back into the inner pocket of his jacket, which he stripped off and threw it over his duffel.

Dean sat down on his own bed, looking over at the hunter, and sighed.

This was all a mess.

No matter how bad Dean wanted it to work, he knew it would just be short term, when he would do what he had originally planned. He knew, that if there was no other way in saving himself from becoming what he didn't want, and when he wanted to safe Sam and the whole damn world, he had to do this.

Damn it, he didn't even know right now why he hadn't done it yet. A part of him wanted to stay with the hunter, find out about how it would work out between the both of them. He wanted to have sex with Sam and show him the love and affection he had never been able to show anyone else in his entire life.

The other part though ... it wanted him to finish it, taking the final step. This part of him told him that Alistair would get a drop on them, before it'd happen the other way round and then it would be too late.

Then again, wasn't life always kind of a surprise? Truth or Dare?

He sighed. No ... he wouldn't give up that easy. He wouldn't give up Sam. There was always something to fight for and in this case it was the hunter. He wouldn't just gulp the potion down and die without knowing if it was even worth it. Maybe the world needed to be punished.

"What're you thinkin' so hard about?"came the raspy voice of someone familiar.

Dean snapped out of his thoughts and within seconds his attention was drawn towards the other bed, where Sam lay on. The hunter was looking into his direction with a goofy smile on his lips and a dazed mist covering his orbs.

"You." he smirked cockily and rose slowly.

"Got your clothes cleaned?" The hunter shifted a bit and groaned as he put too much pressure on the bruised side of his back.

"Sure. Also picked up some chinese for ya'." Dean walked over to the other bed, stripped his cleaned boots off and snuck under the comforter beside Sam.

It was still a tight fit, as much had to be said.

"Noodles or rice?" Sam shifted aside a bit to make some more space.

"Both." The demon kissed Sam's cheek and groaned comfortably, as he fumbled with his hand under the hunter's shirt and rested his hand on the warm skin above his heart. "Comfortable?"

Sam nodded. "Since when are you all cuddly?"

Dean huffed out a laugh. "It's all your damn fault, hunter.", he grumbled, "You're makin' me all soft."

Sam chuckled and sniffed. "Knew you're the girl in our relationship."

Dean pursed his lips. "Don't play with fire, baby boy."

"Sweetheart," he gave back with a smug grin. This was going to be fun.

"Hunny Pot." Dean was taking on the challenge.

Sam threw him a bitchface. "Don't hurt yourself by thinkin', Sparkles."

"Aww, Sugar Puss, don't be such a bitch about it." Dean practically purred into the younger man's neck, as he placed a gentle kiss there. "SNUGGLES."

"Don't tempt me, Pookie." Sam nudged him playfully in his ribs. "I may be hurt, but I still can wrestle you down." _... somehow._

"Try me, Peachy Pie." The demon wore a broad grin on his face, as he rubbed with his fingertips over the hunter's soft nipple.

Sam couldn't possibly suppress a moan. "Dean," it was warning and somehow pleading. Someone – named Sam Campbell – seemed not to like where this was going. Or he liked it and just couldn't stand the thought that he couldn't move as he wanted to.

"Awww, Sweetalicious's runnin' out of ideas?" the demon was teasing. "Pumpkin Poo." Dean wiggled with his eyebrows, as he circled with his pointing finger around the hardening bud.

Sam made a sound between a whimper and a moan, grinding with his hips against the comforter.

Dean Winchester chuckled low and nipped on the sensitive skin behind Sam's ear, pushing with his hips against the younger man's side and made him feel his own growing errection. "Gorgeous," he moaned, flicking over his nipple once more, before his fingers started to trail downwards. "Angel Heart." His hand wandered further down towards the soft trail of hair beneath the hunter's navel. "Frou-Frou."

Sam burst out laughing. "Frou-Frou?", he blurted out utterly amused and though he sounded aroused while he did so. "Is that even a word?" He was more panting than actually talking right now.

"It's yoghurt. - Sour on top, sweet at the bottom," Dean licked into the shell of Sam's ear, while his hand traced a line down to the waistband and snuck under it, finding the hilt of Sam's arousal. "They eat that shit in germany ..."

The hunter bucked into the touch and hissed as he strained the muscles of the bruised side of his back a bit too much.

"Shush," Dean whispered, as he trailed a line of kisses along Sam's jaw. "Let me take care of you ..."

Sam bit down on his lower lip – hard, trying to stay still, as he felt a calloused flat palm cupping his manhood. "Dean ... I can't ..." he groaned frustrated.

"You don't have to do anything, baby boy," Dean gave back and sealed his lips over Sam's. "Stay still, or I'm gonna stop." He ran his hand over the hard length of flesh. "Don't want you to hurt yourself, Sunshine."

Dean withdrew his hand from under the hunter's boxers and threw the comforter aside, revealing Sam's glorious erection, its head poking out under the waistband. The demon nudged his legs apart, so that he had enough space to kneel in between them and pulled the man's boxers down a bit.

He stared longingly at the swollen flesh and tight balls.

"Dean?" Sam sounded a bit embarrassed and was about to cover himself with his hands, but Dean swatted them away.

"Sammy ...", he murmured and gazed at the hunter's slightly flushed face, "Gorgeous ..."

"You're starin'." The hunter swallowed thickly. "And ... it's kinda uncomfortable ..." Sam added shyly and blushed even more.

"What?" Dean grinned a bit, "It's like a car crash. - You just gotta stare." At the same time the words came over his lips, he could've smacked himself. That wasn't how you would describe a half-naked handsome man you were about to seduce. And neither you would say it out loud ...

Sam gave him a confused glare. Was he actually comparing him to a car accident? Did he look that awful? A flash of hurt crossed the man's features and if he would've been able to, he would've definitely jumped out of bed and vanished into the bathroom. Instead, he wanted to draw up his long legs and block the man's few.

Though Dean's hands came in the way and pressed the legs down and aside again with gentle force. "It ... it didn't come out right ..." Dean tried to explain himself hastily, "You know ... when you're driving by an accident you just gotta look ... like – if there's someone inside and if they're hurt ... and – when the vehicle's completely screwed up-"

If Sam wouldn't have stopped him, this would've high likely gone south completely. "You're making it worse," the hunter said hoarsely. "Just shut up and kiss me, idiot." He grinned a bit. Somehow Dean was cute though.

The demon obeyed instantly, well noticing that Sam was coming to his rescue. So he bowed down over him, one of his hands beside Sam's shoulder and his denim-clad hips pressing into Sam's. He seized the hunter's lips into his mouth, mapping it out and tasting the sweetness of him. With his free hand, he started to work on his fly and zipper and pushed his own jeans and pants down, just enough to free his straining erection.

Dean swallowed a guttural moan from the hunter's mouth, as their manhoods touched for the first time. Velvet flesh against silken skin, both leaking pre-come. Dean's hand found it's way in between their bodies and closed his fingers around them both, luring a gasped moan from the hunter's lips.

"That's it, baby boy," he hummed and gripped the both of them a bit tighter, before he started to move his fist slowly. "Just let it go ..."

Soon the both of them were covered in sweat and were panting. Dean was answering each of Sam's silent sweet noises with low moans, as he sped up slowly.

"Don't ... move," Dean said shallowly, as he felt Sam start to move beyond him and stopped his movements for a short moment. "You're gonna hurt yourself, baby."

Sam's lust-hazed eyes found Dean's and he gave him a pained nod. It felt like fireworks were going off all over his nerve-system. His fingertips and toes felt as if they were electric. Sam's lips tingled sweetly and his skin felt over-sensitive all over.

"Good boy." The demon was back to business and was kissing Sam again, thrusting with his tongue into the wetness of the younger man's mouth.

Soon, orgasm had its fangs buried in each one of them as Dean was working them towards the grand finale with earnest. Dean had his eyes closed, his forehead resting on Sam's chest, as he listened to the hunter's moans and gasps which became louder and more desperate.

Dean sped up once more, as he felt their erections twitch in sync, and came three strokes later all over his hand and the hunter's shirt. So did Sam. Ever so gently, the demon rode out their orgasms with lazy strokes of his hand and small bucks of his hip.

"Sammy," he murmured, as he slumped down on the taller man, who gave a pained wince. Instantly he remembered the man's bruised back and rolled off of him, letting his come-covered hand rest on the shirt, so not to mess up the sheets.

Sam groaned, what didn't sound quite as comfortable, short followed by a pained wince. He squeezed his eyes shut and reached for his head, while he was still trying to catch his breath.

Dean's after-orgasmic haze was gone in a millisecond, and he was up and in the bathroom, just to come out a moment later with washed hands and a cup of water, which he placed on the nightstand. He hurried up to close the fly of his jeans, so that it couldn't slide down.

"Give me a sec, Sammy," he muttered hoarsely and went over to his duffel, from where he got a bottle with pills. He snapped it open and shook it a bit. There were two big white ones and three smaller ones in his hand now. He thought for a moment and decided to keep one of the bigger ones, before he closed the bottle again and threw it back into his duffel.

He helped Sam to sit up a bit and let him have the pill and let him drink half of the water, before he eased the man back down.

"Shit, I'm sorry ...", Dean muttered ruefully. "I should've-"

Sam rose a hand to stop him and blinked his eyes open. "Loved it," he muttered with a satisfied smile. "You rocked my world, tiger." Now he grinned, sated – from ear to ear.

Dean chuckled and shook his head. "I see," he nodded towards the mess on Sam's shirt, before his features changed into something more serious again. "What about your head?"

Sam shrugged. "Give it half an hour." He looked up at Dean, frowning as the older man made an attempt to turn his back on him.

"Just getting a fresh shirt for you," he said with a smile on his lips and started to rummage through the hunter's bag.

When he had found a grey, worn out tee, Dean went back to Sam and helped him to get the new one on. Then he crawled back onto the bed, after he dropped the dirty shirt on the floor and pulled the comforter back over the hunter and himself. The demon inched as close as possible and threw one of his legs over Sam's, so that he would be trapped.

Then there was comfortable silence for a couple of minutes.

"You rocked my world too, baby boy," Dean stole a kiss from the hunter's lips and brushed his sweat-damp hair out of his face. "Like no one else did before."

"Liar," Sam mumbled absently. "But it's okay. - I know you think you've to say that to get me to ride you one day." He grinned and chuckled. That kind of chuckle that induced the use of strong meds.

Dean chuckled too. He knew better than jumping up on that train. "Yeah. - Gonna take a while before you'll be able to ride anything, sunshine." He laid his middle- and pointing finger on Sam's temple for a moment. "Get some rest," he said and pulled his fingers away.

Sam was gone the very moment and seemed to be in a sudden deep slumber.

_... to be continued_

_so, ladies & gents, what do you think? am I still doing halfway good?_

_i promise that there's going to be some sex soon ... _

_next up: CHAPTER 21 ~ Promises_


	21. Chapter 21 Promises

_**WARNINGS:**__ this chapter contains sexual content between two men. Don't like? Don't read! Though, it's part of the plot ... so ..._

_Besides: It's the first time I'm writing something more "steamy" ... if you guys know what i mean ... sooo ... I'd appreciate reviews about it._

_Oh ... and I think there'll be also some "dirty talk" there ... (something I haven't done before either. Maybe that's why I was working on this chapter for 5 days)_

* * *

_**Obsidian ~ Raise A Little Hell**_

**The Road So Far:**

_Then there was comfortable silence for a couple of minutes._

_"You rocked my world too, baby boy," Dean stole a kiss from the hunter's lips and brushed his sweat-damp hair out of his face. "Like no one else did before."_

_"Liar," Sam mumbled absently. "But it's okay. - I know you think you've to say that to get me to ride you one day." He grinned and chuckled. That kind of chuckle that induced the use of strong meds._

_Dean chuckled too. He knew better than jumping up on that train. "Yeah. - Gonna take a while before you'll be able to ride anything, sunshine." He laid his middle- and pointing finger on Sam's temple for a moment. "Get some rest," he said and pulled his fingers away._

_Sam was gone the very moment and seemed to be in a sudden deep slumber._

* * *

_**Chapter 21 ~ Promises**_

The hunter had another vision that night. One that made him startle awake, while the demon was busy in the living room as it seemed, thankfully.

Because this one ... THIS ONE hurt like a bitch. Not just physically. It wasn't physical pain that made the hunter's heart stutter and crack and break and BLEED. It was emotional pain, that drove tears into his eyes and down his cheeks.

What he had seen ... he didn't know what to say about it ... if he was even supposed to say something, or just kick the living shit out of Dean (well, at least he could try, couldn't he?).

* * *

Sam groaned and shifted blissfully as he stretched his limbs from him. A week after the incident with the demon, he was doing a lot better, though Dean refused to let Sam get out there with him and let him be part of whatever he was doing. He wouldn't even let the hunter go to the diner down the street to pick up breakfast – at least not on his own.

If it wouldn't have been so adorable, it could've been annoying.

Though, Sam obeyed. He hadn't had the opportunity to get mother-henned in his past anyway. And to be honest, he kind of liked it – A LOT. Between their bickering and teasing, Dean was real nice and attentive. Maybe even a bit protective and a bit too possessive for Sam's liking, but he let Dean have his way with him – at least for the time being and until he felt good enough to wrestle the demon down.

"Good mornin', sleeping beauty," there was this cheering tone in the demon's voice.

"You let me sleep in? _Again_?", Sam asked. Not that he was really bothered, but he had to ask at least.

"You're still not a hundred percent," Dean stated, as he looked up from the old book before him and over at Sam.

The hunter groaned, disapproving and shook his head. "Because you won't let me," he shot back hoarsely. If he thought about his current situation, it was annoying though.

"Well." Dean was turning towards him now and away from the book. "That's because you're still shaky when you're up for too long and you're always touching your head as if it hurts. So I figure you just won't tell me that you're hurtin'."

Big green eyes looked in Sam's direction. Sam looked back at him. "That's because I'm not hurting. It's just ... unpleasant ... from time to time."

Dean's eyebrows rose and he was giving him the _I-know-I'm-right-look_. "Unpleasant huh?" he asked and while he was still talking, he gripped something from the table and threw it towards Sam, who missed grabbing the object in time. "Sure ... just _unpleasant_." Dean turned back towards the book.

"Dude, that's unfair!" Sam called out and swung his endlessly long legs out of the bed. He fumbled for the pen, and threw it back at Dean, who caught it carefully without even looking in its direction.

"It's not. And you know it." The demon didn't give a shit about Sam's ranting. He knew he was right, and the hunter knew it too. "End of discussion. We hit the road after we have breakfast. There's a storm comin' and I want our asses out of here before we're gettin' snowed in or something." He knew about the possibility that demons would think about it as an advantage that way, if they decided to go for them in the middle of a damn blizzard.

Sam rose slowly. He padded over with his bare feet towards the table and bowed down beside Dean, stealing a peck from his temple.

The demon instantly grinned. "Sammy," he singsang and turned towards him, to catch the man's mouth with his. The hunter moaned into the kiss and parted his lips to let the demon in. Dean followed the invitation instantly and pulled Sam down, who sank to his knees beside him.

"You know we should hit the road sooner than later," Dean mumbled into the kiss, while he already started to pull Sam's shirt over his head. He couldn't do anything else but feel for the man's tender skin and firm flesh, urging him impossibly close.

"Just a minute ... or three ..." Sam was breathing more deeply now, as he reached for Dean's belt and unbuckled it. He flipped the fly open and pulled the zipper down. Dean's half-hard erection was visible under the thin layer of cotton. "You really want me to wait until we're in Huron? Until we find a motel or ... abandoned house?" Sam gave him a sly smirk.

"You're such a sneaky bastard." Dean groaned. He reached for Sam's face and tilted his head back, so to get a better angle at the younger man's mouth as he kissed him slowly.

"And you love it," he panted breathlessly against the demon's lips.

"True." Dean smirked.

"You already showered?" Sam asked, searching Dean's face intently.

The elder one chuckled low and shook his head. "No, Sammy. Was waiting for you."

The hunter got back on his feet and took Dean's hand in his. He then guided him into the bathroom, where they shed each other's clothes and caressed each other's bodies in the process, drawing it out achingly long.

When they finally managed to get under the shower, Dean backed the hunter up against the wall, and crashed his lips into his, biting and nipping on the man's tongue and lips.

As much to be said: This was far away from taking a shower as it could be. Sure, the hot water was hitting their skin, but there was neither showergel nor shampoo involved – just bodily fluids and a whole lot of fumbling.

Sam wrapped his long fingers around their rock-hard erections while they kissed, and pumped them slowly. Dean, who was actually a panting mess, started the quest of finding Sam's rim in between firm globes and earned a surprised gasp from the hunter as he did so. Though, he didn't more than tease and nudge at it tentatively, not intending to penetrate him completely – not right then at least.

Dean wanted some place SAFE and comfortable to have their first time together, and not this shithole of a motel room, or an abandoned house. He wanted it to be perfect for the both of them. He wanted it to be memorable. Maybe it was kind of selfish, but he wanted Sam to remember him in a damn good way, when he wouldn't be there anymore. He wanted to have a special place in the hunter's heart.

Well, the demon knew, that he couldn't earn something like that with just sex. He knew that. But he also hoped, that Sam wouldn't regret putting up with him, if he'd give him some damn good times he could remember.

* * *

They hit the road an hour later.

Dean drove like usual and Sam had fallen into a light slumber right after they had turned onto the highway. A slumber that wasn't as peaceful as it may look to anyone who was seeing him asleep. His sleep was plastered with images and short dreams about Dean, the flask, Alistair and seeing the love of his life die dozens of times. Every time he had to watch it, something new and unknown was adding to the bigger picture and slowly but surely Sam was getting an idea of what it all meant.

It was Dean saving the world. Dean saving him. Dean killing himself, so not to get anyone else hurt ... And he'd be damned if he couldn't stop it.

* * *

A week passed.

A week in which a whole lot changed. Snow was falling in thick giant flakes now outside of the lonely cabin, in which they were holing up recently. It wasn't like they had actually planned on staying there longer than a couple of days ... though it had become two weeks. Not because they had wanted to ... because they had gotten snowed in. A fact that sucked bigtime, since Dean was itchy to get their telltale plan on capturing and killing Alistair going.

Sam didn't figure that it sucked that much. It bought him time to figure out what his visions and dreams could probably mean and what he was still seeing when he fell asleep. More than that, he needed to figure out how to stop it. That was the bigger problem here.

Dean was acting as if nothing special was going on. The demon was sticking to his plan – at least it looked that way and then again it didn't. Though, Sam couldn't ignore, that his lover was hiding something from him. That he was planning something.

Bad luck for Dean, that Sam KNEW what he was planning. Dean didn't plan to break into Alistair's villa and take him out. He was planning on killing himself. He was planning on leaving Sam up here in the cabin and take off sometime when Sam was sleeping. Leaving him nothing but a note. A note that might say, that he shouldn't try to find him since it would be pointless. That he wished that things would be different, but that they weren't. And that he wished he could've stayed with Sam, but that it was too dangerous. For him. For the world. For everyone.

He would write, that he was sorry ...

_Sorry_, my ass. _Sorry_ didn't excuse the shit Dean was about to pull off.

Sam had to compose himself, to not let anything slip, to not let Dean know by punching him right in his damn freckled, handsome face, for even thinking of leaving Sam all alone in this goddamn world.

Sam had to figure out how to get his hands on the poison the demon had to hide somewhere among his belongings, and how he could sneak out of the cabin without being noticed. He needed to find the bone, get it back here and do the damn ritual with Dean. - No matter if the demon wanted to or not. He'd make him do it! And he'd make him want it! (Because that had worked so perfectly in the past).

Since Sam figured that there was no way to sneak out that easily, he needed a bullet-proof plan. He needed Dean to be out for the count for at least twenty-four hours. He just didn't know how ... since he didn't intend on hurting the man. Then there were the demon's powers. Incredibly mighty forces. Something he shouldn't underestimate. So he went on the search for something that would sedate the knight of hell, or for some sleeping-spell that'd wear off on its own and would work on a demon. And THAT was something, he wouldn't find on the web – not that he had WIFI up here anyway. But he had a signal on his phone, so he might as well get some help from the outside. And the only one that came to his mind was Robert Singer.

* * *

Dean was pissed.

He was beyond pissed and tried to hide it from Sam as much as possible, though the hunter seemed to sense his distress somehow. A whole damn week in which he was stuck up here. A whole week and he was running out of time.

Dean had planned on having two last beautiful days with Sam, and then he would sneak out of the cabin and take the damn potion. He'd leave his baby here –in Sam's hands. He knew the hunter would take (or at least try to take) good care of her. He'd make his way to somewhere far away from here to end to this.

Not because he couldn't do it here in the cabin. Well yeah, he actually couldn't do it here. Not where Sam was. Not where the hunter would find him in a pool of blood and spilled guts. He couldn't do that to Sam. Nor did he want him to find him that way somewhere else.

Hell, he even had found a place, where – if Sam would try to find him (and he surely would at least try to) – would _never_ find him. And if he did, his corpse would already be too rotten to be identified.

So yeah – that was HIS plan. Not tracking Alistair down. Hell, he didn't give a damn where that bastard was and what he was planning. He didn't want a hand to hand fight with the current leader of hell. There were too many possibilities that it wouldn't work out as planned and that it'd go south.

So yeah, that was it. HIS plan. HIS destiny.

And he couldn't do it. He couldn't leave Sam up here without knowing that he would be fine when he was gone and nowhere to be found. He needed some kind of security that things would go as they were supposed to.

* * *

Dean stood at the stove and was stirring in a small pot. The whole cabin was filled by the smell of chilli and fresh baked bread.

Though, as much as Sam wanted to admire those bowlegs, which led right up to these glorious globes, he couldn't.

"I'm gonna get some more logs for the fire, Buttercup," he called out into the kitchen from where he was lying on the couch. Sam smirked. He knew he was jiggling at the fence.

He didn't see Dean raising both of his eyebrows, nor the pursed lips. Nor did the hunter see the way Dean's lips curled up into a mischievous grin. "Fine. I'm gonna get the dishes, Cuddlebug."

Sam's grin widened. He kind of liked that game – maybe it seemed weird to everyone else, but it had become some kind of foreplay. Telling each other that the other one was on for some dessert ...

Sam couldn't hinder himself from striding into the kitchen, and backing the shorter man up against the counter from behind. He leaned into his back and ground his hips against the demon's firm buttocks, as he tilted his head forward, so that his lips were merely an inch away from Dean's ear.

"I bet you are, Hot Stuff," Sam whispered low, as he brushed with his lips over the demon's earlobe, his hand ghosting down the man's side at the same time.

Dean nearly lost it right there. A deep groan fell from his lips and he leaned back against the hunter's front. "Get the logs before I'm tempted to bend you over that damn table before we even have dinner, Muggles."

Sam chuckled and gave the demon's butt a firm squeeze. "Empty promises, Romeo."

Dean turned his head, just enough to meet Sam's gaze out of the corner of his eyes. "Tonight's the night, Sunshine," he hummed with a promising smile on his lips, "I'm gonna rock your balls straight into next week."

"Awww, Jelly Bean's gettin' all worked up again?" Sam teased, as he nipped at Dean's neck.

The demon had held onto the spoon so desperately and now he was letting go of it and turned around in one swift motion. He snuck his arms around Sam's waist and took him completely aback, when he pushed him up against his firm erection.

"Jelly Bean's been serious, Cowboy." Dean's voice was all rough and low. "Now get the damn logs." He gave the hunter's butt a playful squeeze before he let him go and turned back towards the pot of chilli.

"Don't burn your fingers while I'm gone, Big Daddy!" Sam called out, as he was already on his way out of the kitchen and headed towards the front door, wearing a smug grin on his face, and a damn heavy erection in his pants.

Once outside, Sam closed his eyes for a brief moment in an attempt to compose himself. He reached for the phone in his front pocket and walked down the porch and around the house at its back, where Dean wouldn't be able to listen.

He dialed Bobby's number and waited. At the third ring, the old man picked up and talked gruffly into the phone, introducing himself as Singer's and Sons Funeral Home.

Sam cleared his throat before he spoke. "Bobby. - I need your help ..."

* * *

It wasn't more than fifteen minutes later, that Sam got back inside, freezing his ass off, with a pile of wooden logs balancing on his long arms, which he tried to hold with his chin.

"Dude. You ain't no human," Dean's voice made Sam startle, "You shouldn't go out there without a jacket."

Sam caught the demon's worried gaze. He was shivering like crazy. "Guess I'm an idiot." He said it with a tight smile.

"What took you so long anyway? Found some fury pet to cuddle to death out there?" Dean set the bowl in the middle of the small wooden table.

The hunter threw him a bitchface. "Haha."

The demon smirked. "C'mon. Lets have dinner, baby boy."

Sam couldn't help but smile back at him. He then put the logs in front of the fireplace and moved over to the table, where he sat down.

He hummed and closed his eyes for a brief moment, taking in the scent of chilli and fresh baked – still warm – bread. "Smells delicious," he drew the syllables out with a deep purr, just like Dean did when he had one of his favorite meals standing before him.

They then ate in silence and emptied the whole pot and most of the bread. Too full to do anything that contained physical exertion, they moved over to the couch, where both unbuttoned their jeans to gain some more space for their full bellies.

"Guess ... we've to wait a bit before I can rock your world," Dean muttered and shifted a bit.

The hunter chuckled. "Yeah ... think I don't want my world rocked right now – except you wanna have the chilli all over you."

"Ewww." Dean scrunched his nose up and shook his head in disgust.

There was a beat of comfortable silence. "Would you ... get the remote control?"

Sam huffed out a laugh. "In your dreams. - 'm not movin'."

"Go get the remote, bitch.", his words were spoken a bit sharper, though soft.

"Get it yourself, jerk," Sam grumbled low and leaned back.

"Honey Bun?" Dean gave him a luscious smirk.

"Screw yourself, Papa Bear. 'm not movin'." The hunter groaned and laid his head back, closing his eyes.

"Awww, c'mon, sugar," Dean teased sweetly.

Too sweet. Not that Sam was buying that shit right now. The both of them were full to the curb.

"Nuhuh." Sam breathed out huskily, on the edge of dozing off. "Said I'm not movin'."

Sam felt the couch tip, and before he was able to assess if Dean had gotten up for the remote, he was already off in the world of dreams.

When he woke some time later, everything was dark around him. He lay on the couch and he found himself covered by a thick blanket. The fire in the fireplace had died and some blazing coals were remaining, giving a dim reddish light.

Sam jack-knifed into a sitting position, searching the room frantically with his eyes, as he couldn't suppress the rising bile of panic in his throat.

"Dean?!" he called out, close to hysterical. He was up the very next moment.

Nope. He couldn't be gone, could he? Sam couldn't have missed Dean leaving, because if he did, he'd be too late. Too late for everything. He was on his feet in an instant and rushing towards the bedroom. The only place in the small cabin he couldn't see into.

He was right up the open threshold, when he bumped into something soft before him, and he heard a low "Ow".

"Sam ... what the hell?" the demon's hoarse voice was heard.

Sam took a sharp inhale, trying to calm his suddenly raw feeling nerves. Damn it, that had been close. "Dean ... I thought ..."

"There wasn't enough space on the couch."

"Yeah ..." Sam huffed out an embarrassed laugh. "... figured." He cleared his throat.

They went to bed together then. Dean did in fact notice the hunter's weird behaviour, but didn't question it anyways. Instead he wrapped his arms around Sam, as he curled into him and let his eyes flutter close again.

It had become a habit to sleep at night whenever Sam was meant to sleep. But this night was different though – as should be the following ones. The hunter didn't dare to let himself drift off again – At least not fully. He'd startle awake every now and then and would reach for Dean behind him, so to be sure that he was still there with him.

* * *

Thirty-six hours and twenty-seven minutes later, Sam received a call from Bobby Singer, with the information he needed about the sedative that'd work on a knight of hell.

It was the same evening, when things came to a head between the hunter and Dean. They were sharing longing glances, while they didn't talk a lot. They didn't need to. They knew what the other one was thinking only by looking at each other.

So they had a relaxing day in front of the TV, with loads of cuddling and such. They didn't cook though. Just ate what was left from the day before and consumed loads of junk food – as if it was their last day on earth together. Something neither of them seemed to realize was what they were really trying to say with these actions, a way of saying _see-you-later_ or _goodbye_.

Maybe they didn't even want to realize, that either of them had a similar plan for the night.

While Dean counted on it, that he'd be able to sneak out after the most amazing world-shattering sex, Sam was armed with a syringe, holding a dark-red liquid.

Sam had gone for an extended walk this afternoon – on his own – which didn't bother Dean in the least, since he needed to get things prepared for his take-off anyway.

While Dean did that, Sam was mixing some ingredients – most of it was his blood – together. Gladly he didn't need a whole lot of herbs and other things for it. Just his blood, some alcohol, holy water and belladonna. Something that was so simple that Sam would've never thought that it would work.

So, here they were, on the couch, having a gentle make-out-session going on, while Neo was holding off the robots with his powers.

Sam was on top of Dean, grinding down on him and kissing him deep and slow, while the demon's hands were glued to his butt-cheeks, pressing his hips against him.

Like some horny teenagers, Sam thought lightly.

"Bathroom," Dean murmured into the kiss, "Gonna get us ready, baby boy."

Sam smiled into the filthy promised and ground down on him one last time. "You're intending to rock my world tonight?"

"You can bet on it."

Their gazes were locked on each other's.

Eventually they were able to part enough to get up from the couch and into the bathroom. On their way there, they shed their clothes between sloppy kisses. Finally inside the shower stall, Sam turned on the water and when he turned around, he found himself wrapped in Demon-Dean, with a straining erection pressing into his belly.

"You really meant it?" Sam asked between tender kisses. "That you ... that we ..."

Dean silenced him with a kiss, lapping into the welcoming heat of the hunter's willing mouth and lips. His hands roamed over the taller man's body, caressing every inch of the incredibly sensitive skin before him. The demon trailed a ray of kisses along Sam's jaw, neck, collarbone and down to the antipossession-tattoo over the hunter's heart.

Sam shuddered, as soft lips wrapped around his nipple. "Dean," he moaned, trying to grab the demon's hair, but all he got was a devilish chuckle as he failed.

A sound, that made Sam eager. He backed the demon up against the cool tiles, his hands to the left and right of the elder man's head, covering him with his body nearly completely. Sam didn't lose time to do exactly the same to Dean, using his fingers instead of tongue.

"Fuck." It was more of a groan that left the demon's throat.

Sam's hand found its way to the older man's strained erection and brushed with his fingertips ever so softly along the thick vein on the underside of the man's arousal. He traced his fingertips feather-lightly over its slit, while he nipped and licked along the curve of Dean's neck, getting braver with every noise he gained from his rougher ministrations.

It wasn't Dean Winchester's way, letting himself being pushed around that way. Hell, he wasn't used to getting the right buttons pushed – but Sam? Hell, that kid managed to turn him into a whimpering mess, with just his fingers, teeth and lips.

The hunter continued to tease the living shit out of him for quite some time, until the demon couldn't take it anymore. Well, he COULD take it, but he didn't WANT to. It was time for a little regime-change here.

Dean grunted, as he felt a giant palm wrapping loosely around his manhood and give it a few lazy strokes, before it went back to caress his balls and shaft with slow motions.

That was it, he'd come right now if he didn't do something about it. - Besides ... he wanted Sam to feel special, to make him whimper and writhe under his touch. Not the other way round.

With a graceful movement, he had Sam backed up against the shower, his chest flush against the tiles, as his hard length slipped in between the crack of Sam's globes.

There was nothing more but a surprised gasp falling from the hunter's lips as he felt Dean's manhood glide over his sensitive rim.

"Told you I'd rock your world, baby boy," Dean's voice was husky and rough, "Not the other way round."

The hunter bucked against Dean's front, feeling the unbelievable smooth and slippery skin glide along his back as he did so.

The demon peppered gentle kisses along the man's shoulders and couldn't stop himself from biting him tenderly into the meaty parts of it, while he rubbed his erection in between those firm muscles.

Sam made little noises, filled with pleasure and need and so much more.

Dean adjusted the spray of water so that it was mostly on Sam. He watched it run down the honey tanned skin in small cascades and followed the trail down, where the tip of his manhood was poking out.

Sam felt the warmth of the other body gone and whimpered at the loss, which got caught by a surprised gasp, as he felt a slick digit tease along his rim and felt the tip of it nudge at the tight muscle.

"Sammy," Dean whispered and bit down on his lower lip as he eased his finger with slow movements into the hunter's tight tunnel.

Sam bucked into the touch, trying to gain more friction and getting Dean deeper inside of him, but the demon wouldn't let him. The hunter's muscles clenched around his finger, as he slowly penetrated him, massaging his lower back with his free hand at the same time.

"C'mon, baby," the demon murmured softly, "Let me in. - Let me show you ..."

It took quite some time for Sam to loosen up after all those months of not being sexually active. - At least not in this way. Surely, he mostly had bottomed – just because. Because he enjoyed it. Because these were the times where he didn't have to take the lead, or plan something. He was giving himself into someone else's hands ... someone who – hopefully – loved him enough to be worth it.

Sam had never been someone for one night stands or sex-stories. Nope. He loved to feel loved while he had sex. He wanted to be loved, as he wanted to give his love to someone else. For him it wasn't just sex – it was LOVE all along. Otherwise they wouldn't be here.

Sam moaned, when Dean's finger was all the way in, rubbing against that one spot deep inside him, which made his knees turn into jelly.

"Yahtzee, baby," Dean leaned forward, while he worked the finger in and out of the tight hole, "That's my boy."  
Soon, Sam was pushing back against him, getting himself loose on the demon's digit. Eventually Dean added a second and a third finger, scissoring the younger man's tight heat open. Man, this guy was an elemental force. The way Sam's muscles worked beneath his skin, the low guttural and high pitches noises he made every time Dean seemed to hit his prostate from the inside.

It was a Phenomenon to him.

Dean slammed his fingers all the way in, pushing Sam up against the wall and held him there. "Damn it, Sammy," he murmured, gripping the man's waist with his free hand to hold him in place. The hunter let out a whine, trying to move – at least a bit, but the demon wouldn't let him.

"I wanna take you.", Dean purred into his ear, "But not here ... I want you on a bed, wet as you are, all naked. - I want you to spread your legs wide open for me ..." Dean squeezed the base of his cock, so not to come on the image of just that. "And I want you to want it, Sunshine. - I want you to tell me that you want THAT. I won't do it if you don't."

Sam made this noise deep down in his throat. "I want you to make love to me, Dean."

Dean took that as a definite yes. He pulled his fingers out of Sam, ever so carefully and then turned him around, crashing their lips together, as if he was intending to suck the life out of him mercilessly. It was a forceful kiss of tongues and teeth, which ebbed away into something more tender and loving until they parted.

Dean held onto Sam's hip, while he reached with his other hand towards the regulator and turned the water off. Their looks caught over the short distance, and Dean smiled lovingly at the younger male.

His hand found Sam's intuitively and he interlaced his fingers with Sam's. The demon guided him out of the small bathroom and towards their bed, where he made Sam sit down. With infinite gentleness, he pushed Sam backwards, until he laid flat on his back and urged him towards the middle of the soft blanket-covered mattress.

Dean crawled over him, never breaking eye-contact with the one man he wanted to stay forever. And though he knew he wouldn't, no matter how bad he wanted to. After all he had to follow plan B. The one plan, which promised the world and a certain hunter to be safe. - As safe as it could ever be out there.

"Handsome," Dean murmured into the hunter's neck, as he licked droplets of water from his heated skin. "So damn sexy ..." He lapped on the man's earlobe and sucked it between his lips and teeth.

Sam's back arched up from the mattress and his hips and swollen flesh came so close to Dean's. "Dean," he moaned, with his eyes closed and mouth open, savoring the feel of being worshipped – of being loved.

"Right here, baby." Dean let go of his ear and moved up, where he met the younger man's lips with his. "You're everything I ever wanted – I just didn't know ..." he whispered in between.

Sam grinned into another kiss, trying to get some more friction due to bucking up against the demon."C'mon, bad boy ...", Sam panted, "... show me how it's done. I wanna feel you."

Dean growled. Actually GROWLED, as he slid with his legs in between Sam's thighs and guided them apart. He ground down against Sam, making the hunter gasp and moan. "That's what you want?"

Sam smiled, with his eyes closed, nodding.

Dean slid with his arms under Sam's knees and guided them up, until the hunter's thighs were snug against his sides, with Dean in between them. The demon growled once more, as he bent Sam nearly in half, an the man's butt was pressed firmly against his rock-hard erection which was dripping with precome.

Sam's eyes flashed open and got caught from a pair of emerald-green ones. "That's all you got, Pinky Poo?"

Dean chuckled low and feral. "You wait and see, baby boy," he groaned, as he reached with one of his hands for his arousal and lined himself up with the younger man's puffy puckered entrance. "Promised you to rock ya' world."

It wasn't a full moment later, that he pressed into him in one slow motion, letting the hunter feel every inch of him. Ever so slowly he eased inside the tight, hot tunnel, giving himself or Sam time to protest, or question what they were going to do.

Sam made a low noise in the back of his throat and threw his head back into the pillow, his eyes slamming shut.

Both were holding their breath and just let go, when Dean was fully seated inside his lover, partner, mate. Sam's eyes fluttered open and his hands started to search Dean's head to pull him into a heated kiss. Though due the human's limited ability to stretch and move, they managed to kiss without Dean having to pull out of Sam – at least not completely.

"You ready for the ride, baby boy?" Dean asked panting with a smug grin on his lips.

"You can bet on it, cowboy," Sam panted and wiggled with his hips to get the demon to move.

And who was Dean Winchester to refuse his lover's plea?

He pulled almost the whole way out – slow and agonizing, just to drive back into Sam with a noise of awe, which made the man beneath him gasp. Goosebumps stood up almost all over of the hunter's body, as Dean pulled out again, until just the head of his manhood remained in him and slammed back in with tender force.

Sam grunted, trying to fist the demon's short hair for leverage – but failed - again. He made a sound between a whimper and a groan, as Dean angled a bit different and slammed home again, hitting his sweet spot. He could feel the hunter tighten around him, and KNEW that he had found the right place which would guarantee Sam's release soon.

It wasn't long, until the demon increased his rhythm and force, snapping with his hips forward to nail the hunter's prostate with every damn single thrust. He was driving moan, after whimper, after groan from Samuel Campbell, turning him into a needy, begging mess beneath him.

By the sounds of it, Sam was a pretty noisy lover, and Dean couldn't suppress his own grunts anymore. Each time when he rammed into the tight channel of heat, Sam clenched around him.

"Sammy," Dean squeezed his eyes shut, chasing after his orgasm in earnest now. "God ... god ... baby boy ..."

Sam couldn't do anything but lie there and take what the demon had to give, since he hadn't a lot of ways to move in his trapped position. Instead he was holding onto the man's neck and shoulder, digging with his blunt nails into the sweat-slick flesh, as he felt the pleasure and warmth in his belly overtaking him.

Sam was holding onto the older man for dear life, his body shuddering and sensitive as if his nerves were laying blunt upon his skin. He chanted the demon's name as he climbed higher and higher, until he couldn't hold back anymore.

White pearls of release burst out of him the very moment he felt Dean Winchester's come fill him up. The demon's thrusts became shallower and slicker, until he stilled completely and collapsed on top of his lover, panting and completely exhausted.

"Ow fuck," Dean panted, pearls of sweat glistening all over his naked form.

Sam blew out a shuddering breath, burying his fingers in the demon's short spiked hair. "Gotta say ...", he murmured, "... I've to admit ... you've rocked my world pretty good." He chuckled breathlessly.

Dean poked him into his ribs.

"Ow!" Sam poked back.

The demon pinched the hunter's nipple and pulled out of him carefully.

Sam hissed at the pinch and the loss between his legs, when Dean rolled off of him.

"Figured ... Demon's are a bit kinkier ..." Sam glanced at Dean with a risen eyebrow.

Dean's lips curled into a broad grin. "Figured the kinky stuff ain't somethin' for our first time." He winked at him. "The classics are still the best." There was a short pause. "I'm gonna get a washcloth to clean your mess up, baby boy." He stole a peck from the hunter's lips and jumped out of bed.

Sam followed him with his gaze until he was back beside him. When he wanted to reach for the cloth, Dean patted his hand away. "Let me," was all he said.

And Sam let him.

When the two of them were all cleaned up from the sticky mess, Dean threw the cloth aside carelessly and climbed back into bed beside Sam, where he settled down. As if on instinct, the hunter turned towards him and wrapped his arms around Dean, resting his head on the older man's chest.

Sam knew he wasn't allowed to fall asleep. Not now. He had to fake that he was sleep. Which was pretty difficult for a man after climaxing. He hadn't forgotten about the demon's plans to take off. And if he wasn't mistaken, his last vision had showed him what TONIGHT would happen.

Sam wouldn't let anything get in between him and the life he wanted for the both of them. NOTHING. Neither he would allow Dean to just throw it away ...

* * *

Samuel Campbell didn't sleep. Neither did Dean Winchester.

BOTH were faking to be asleep. Their breaths were even. They lay curled up around each other on top of the blankets. The air was already chilly in the small cabin.

Dean placed a tender kiss to the hunter's forehead, and Sam did everything to not stir, press into the gentle touch of lips, or open his eyes.

The demon eased out under him, ever so carefully and as he bowed over him, stealing another lingering touch of lips against lips, he whispered a silent: "I'm sorry, Sammy," before he sat up at the edge of the bed and started to check the room for his shed underwear.

He moved silently through the room, gathering a set of fresh clothes from his duffel and started to slip into them, too distracted by what he was doing to notice a sneaky giant human male roll out of bed and grabbed a syringe from under the bed in the same motion.

Dean was about to pull the jeans up over his hips, when he sensed movement behind him and spun around. Though it was too late. He felt something pierce his bicep and a pair of glistening hazel-green eyes looking into his.

Sam pressed the plunger not a moment too late and the syringe was emptied before Dean was able to swat his hand away, or to process what was happening.

The syringe fell and scattered over the floor, back under the bed. The demon looked at Sam, as if he had just betrayed him terribly. An uneasy feeling grew in his guts and chest which spread relentlessly and let him sway. It fogged his mind and let his vision blur and before he could realize what was happening, his knees started to buckle.  
"Sam?", he asked, his brows arched up in disbelieve.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I'm so sorry," Sam muttered, as he reached for the demon to catch his fall. He went down with him on his knees, holding onto him tightly. "I can't let you do that. I can't." Sam laid his big hand on the demon's cheeks, whose body trembled slightly as he fought against the demonic sedative. Dean's eyes were almost closed and the frantic heaving of his chest started to even out. "I can't let you leave and kill yourself because you're too afraid of what COULD possibly happen."

_"No, you didn't ... "What ... Sam ... no no no ... you didn't ..._" Dean's words became slurred.

"I'm sorry, Dean," Sam whispered against the demon's lips and kissed him lovingly. When he pulled back, Dean's eyes were closed and his breaths even and deep.

_... to be continued_

* * *

_sooooo ... that's it :) _

_beta'd by my always awesome GOTHPANDAOTAKU :) _


	22. Chapter 22 Lost & Found

**THANKS TO MY ALWAYS AWESOME BETA: GOTHPANDAOTAKU**

**Obsidian ~ Raise A Little Hell**

**The Road So Far:**  
_"Sam?" he asked, his brows arched up in disbelieve._

_"I'm sorry, Dean. I'm so sorry," Sam muttered, as he reached for the demon to catch his fall. He went down with him on his knees, holding onto him tightly. "I can't let you do that. I can't." Sam laid his big hand on the demon's cheeks, whose body trembled slightly as he fought against the demonic sedative. Dean's eyes were almost closed and the frantic heaving of his chest started to even out. "I can't let you leave and kill yourself because you're too afraid of what COULD possibly happen."_

_"No, you didn't ... "What ... Sam ... no no no ... you didn't ..." Dean's words became slurred._

_"I'm sorry, Dean," Sam whispered against the demon's lips and kissed him lovingly. When he pulled back, Dean's eyes were closed and his breaths even and deep._

* * *

**Chapter 22 ~ Lost & Found**

Sam held the flask, which contained the deadly _knight-of-hell-killing-potion_ in his hand, as he stood on the porch of the cabin.

Sam shuddered and looked out into the darkness of the night, as he walked down the few steps and uncapped the small silver bottle. He took a deep inhale and closed his eyes, as he tipped it over and let the black liquid drain from it, tainting the snow black.

With the next intake of oxygen, Sam wound up and sent the flask flying. The hunter's hands were trembling. Not because he was afraid of what he was going to do. Nope. He was afraid of how Dean would react as soon as he'd wake up. Though, he knew that was something he shouldn't think about just now.

Sam had everything planned out. Now he just had to make it into town on time. It had stopped snowing, so he figured he'd take about one to two hours there, when he took the path through the woods towards the highway.

Again, he inhaled deeply, fastened the scarf around his neck tighter and tilted the collar of his jacket up. Sam gripped the sling of his duffel bag and hoisted it over his shoulder, before he drew another salt line in front of the front door and closed it.

With a last longing glance over his shoulder, Sam took off towards the woods – and the darkness.

* * *

It hadn't been easy to get up there with the snow up to the fenders of his pick up. Actually it had taken him two hours longer than he had expected.

And obviously he'd been too late.

The lights in the cabin were out and it looked like no one was home. The bearded ex hunter instantly noticed the snowed in Impala and that the vehicle hadn't been moved the past few days for sure.

He pushed the door of his car open and hopped out, sinking in the snow to his calves. "Balls," he cursed gruffly, as he felt the frozen coolness seep through the fabric of his jeans.

With a huff, he made a round the heap of metal and snow and up the porch. Behind the stack of wood, he finally found the keys after ten minutes of searching. Once inside, he noticed the died fire and the lack of warmth.

Bobby went straight for the one and only door in the cabin, which had to be the bedroom. He still hoped that it wasn't as he suspected – though he knew better. Deep down he knew what he'd find – or rather – what he wouldn't find.

There was Dean, in the middle of the big double-bed, obviously sound asleep and covered by a comforter and a pile of blankets. On the nightstand was a glass of water, two white small pills and a sheet of paper, which read "Dean," so he didn't touch it. It wasn't his to read.

The old man had known that Sam was planning something. As he had known, that Dean had been planning something too. There had just been the question who of his boys was faster and more devious.

Sam had won – which didn't make Bobby feel any better at all. Not a little bit.

The old man tried to wake the demon – gently first, then rougher – even when he already knew that he wouldn't wake up anytime soon. Not when Sam had used the sedative on _him_ ...

He glanced again at the sheet of paper under the glass and his eyebrows furrowed. Robert Singer thought for a very long moment, before he reached for it and unfolded it ...

"Stupid boy," the old man muttered under his breath and wiped over his beard and mouth, his eyes closing briefly.

His gaze wandered over towards Dean's sleeping form and he put the paper back on the nightstand and placed the glass on it again. If someone could possibly know where Sam was heading, it was Dean. And Dean was out cold for at least another twelve hours.

So time to get comfy.

* * *

The hunter was about fourteen hours into the countdown, when he put his toothbrush and razor back into the leather bag and stuffed it into his duffel.

Samuel Campbell was fifteen hours into the countdown, when he found a vehicle to "borrow" and hotwired it.

Twenty hours into the countdown, he pulled up on the side of a dirt road near the address the demon had given to him.

It was nightfall again, and Sam had laid out a plan of the crossroad-king's property folded out on the passenger's side. He had studied it before, and was now memorizing the small loop-holes for his escape. Though, there weren't a lot, and all of them were surely secured in some way.

Sam checked on his demon-killing knife in the sheath on his belt and adjusted the holster on his left thigh. Yeah, it looked like an ordinary gun and though its ammo was very special.

Silver bullets, coated with iron, doused in holy water and a small pentagram carved into its tip and one at the bottom.

Well, Sam didn't know for sure if it'd work ... but he hoped it would – otherwise he would be screwed. _So damn screwed._

The hunter checked on his equipment – the knife, the gun with silencer, holy water and his plan – before he left the car and started his walk over the open field towards the building. He had checked out the surroundings in daylight and had found a freakin' villa, surrounded by fields and a high iron-made fence.

It took him half an hour to get there. Sam climbed over the sharp spiked fence on its top. He landed securely on the other side in a crouch and made his way through the darkness, always seeking cover behind one of the trees or giant statues.

It didn't take long until the first hellhound got a whiff of him, and immediately the others seemed to notice him too. Not just that – obviously the demonic guards also did.

_Showtime._

* * *

It wasn't a lot he felt at first. Sure, there was warmth and softness and the want to stay in this hyper-comfortable state of sleep. At least until he felt something nagging at the back of his subconscious mind. Something that tried to pull him out of his state of unconsciousness roughly.

Dean knew he needed to wake up, that it was important. The urge to claw his way back into the world of reality took overhand and literally catapulted him into awareness.

A sharp intake of air, flashing open emerald-green eyes and everything came crushing down on him. That he had sex with Sam. That the hunter had fallen asleep – or rather that he had acted as if – and the fact that this bastard had taken him out like he was a rookie.

"Sam?!" he yelled hoarsely and as loud as his vocal cords allowed. Though he already knew that no answer would come.

Dean spotted the glass of water, the pills and the white paper under them. His eyes narrowed, horrified. This couldn't be happening. _No way_ ... He didn't bother to put the glass aside. Instead of giving the pills and the throb in his head any attention, he sat up on the edge of the bed and yanked the sheet of paper out under the glass with an incredibly fast movement.

* * *

A moment of carelessness and the feeling of joy over his triumph – of holding a black bone in his hands – cost Samuel Campbell his chance to escape.

Actually, the bone wasn't quite black. It was more grey and looked as if it had gotten burnt. Sam should've felt bad about holding a piece of what was once a human body in his hands, but he couldn't bring himself to care. - Partly because he couldn't bring himself to care about someone who was already dead for decades and because the bone would guarantee the world's safety and Dean's freedom.

IF there had even ever been a chance to leave the building and Crowley's property unharmed and unnoticed.

Now – tied to a chair, in the middle of a damn freaking dungeon, he wasn't so sure anymore. To be honest: Getting inside the building and into the demon's office to snatch the bone from a vitrine seemed too easy NOW.

It had been a trap. Or he had gotten rusty over the months of relying on someone else but his own instincts.

The dirty gag tore on the corners of his mouth and soaked up all saliva, so that his mouth felt dry and furry. His left eye was swollen shut and the vision of his right one was itchy and blurry.

Though, other than that he felt okay – at least nothing was broken or hurt.

"Campbell," he heard a foreign voice from before him.

A sturdy man in his late forties, wearing a black shirt, suit-pants and coat and a red tie was emerging from the dark corner to his left.

"What a nice surprise," the man spoke with scottish accent. "I am sorry for the inconveniences, though I thought it's just appropriate to secure you that way." He wore a mischievous smile.

Sam glared at him.

"Well, well." The demon crossed his arms behind his back. "As much as I'd love to get my hands on you ..." He turned around towards the iron door, which opened heavily and slowly. "... there's someone who would appreciate your company a lot more."

Sam followed the demon's gesture and his good eye widened, as a man walked inside, with reddish hair and beard, piercing blue eyes and thin lips curled up in a smug half-smile.

"You never disappoint, Crowley," the man said, his smile widening slightly. The way he drew out the syllables of his words, coursed a shiver down the hunter's spine.

Crowley held a small transparent plastic bag in his hand, holding it towards the newly arrived male. In it was the burnt jaw-bone of what used to be a human being. The man took it from the demon's grasp and eyed it for a moment. He then pursed his lips.

The demon's eyes wandered over to Sam and he blew out a deep breath. "Well. - I see you made yourself comfortable." He grinned, his lips twitched. "I suggest you don't get used to my friend's hospitality."

Sam glared at the man, who waved the bag with the bone in front of himself. "I suggest you cooperate, or this is going to become very hurtful for you, hunter."

"Screw you, bastard," Sam hissed through gritted teeth, "I'm never going to cooperate with your kind."

The demon chuckled and shrugged. "I guess we'll see."

* * *

Dean paced the room forth and back, his hands stemmed into his sides, in one of them a crunched piece of paper. The demon's eyes were a shade of green like the stormy sea. He grabbed the keys for his baby and slid into his jacket, already knowing that the potion was gone and that Samuel Campbell was the cause of it.

"Calm down, boy," Bobby said, covering his own agitation with his gruff voice. "We can't go in there half-cocked. Besides, we need all the backup we can get."

"The only backup we have is Jim," Dean snarled furiously, as he paced the room once more. "That damn bastard."

"I would say that Sam tricked you, didn't he?" Bobby knew about the seriousness of their situation, but he also knew that Dean had his own plans and that the demon was pissed because Sam had crossed them.

He glared at the older man. "Where did you even find the ingredients for the sedative?"

The ex-hunter shrugged. "Found it in some old book. And don't look at me like that." He glared back at Dean. "I didn't know that he would take off. - I thought he'd sedate you and get you to the salvage to sort things out."

"Sort things out?" Dean nearly yelled. "He's tryin' to snatch Crowley's precious - No one gets in there when he doesn't want someone to get in there, Bobby. So if Sam's able to get onto the property and into the damn house, it sure as hell ain't because he's such a great hunter!"

Anger was flaring high in the demon's chest.

"You shouldn't underestimate him." Bobby's voice was calm, though a hint of fury was sensible already. "Maybe he's gonna surprise you."

Dean huffed out a laugh and rolled his eyes. "It's not about what he's capable of doing. There's a reason why I stole the bone from Alistair and not from Crowley, don't you think?" He fixed the older man with his gaze.

Bobby thrust his jaw forward and pursed his lips. "We can't go in there without a plan."

"I CAN," Dean said and wrenched the front door open. "Watch me." And with that he was out of the cabin and down the porch.

It had taken the both of them about one and a half hours to get his baby shoveled out of the snow. Now he sat behind the steering wheel, gazing at the passenger's seat absently.

He was alone. All over again. ALONE. And not just that. He felt LOST. For the first time in a long time he felt lost. And it hurt. The demon's gaze flickered up at the porch, where Bobby was coming out. He tipped his ball-cap up and gave Dean a short not. A sign that he would follow.

* * *

**Now** Sam's ribs hurt. Did those bastards _have_ to kick him? Honestly? He grunted and blinked into the darkness. The fabric of the bag over his head smelled like piss and a whole lot of other stuff he didn't want to know.

Hell, he couldn't see a single thing, nor did he hear anything except the rumble of the car he was in. High likely a van, Sam thought, since he had enough space to stretch out, despite his bound ankles and wrists. The metallic surface beneath him was vibrating and every now and then it bumped, whenever they hit a pot-hole.

Sam had lost track of time, since he passed out shortly before they loaded him into the vehicle. Now that he was fully awake again, he tried to orientate a bit. He tried to check out how many of those bitches were in the car and how his chances were to get away ... Because he was a freaking Campbell and he wouldn't give in that easy.

Besides: Dean would kick his ass into next week if he would have to get him out of there. Hell, Dean... His lover must be awake and fuming by now ... He was going to kick his ass anyway.

* * *

The sleek black Impala pulled up on the driveway in front of a giant iron door in the middle of nowhere. He stared from the position in his driver's seat straight into a security camera on the left upper corner.

The Winchester's look promised bloody murder.

The door opened after a short beep.

After another moment of thinking, and waiting until the door was open enough, Dean drove through and up a short alley-way towards a giant estate. He killed the engine in front of a dozen stairs, which lead to a small terrace and towards the entrance.

The demon flipped the keys into his left hand and stuffed them into the front pocket of his jeans. He knew he was dangerous. He knew he was frightening. Dean Winchester – knight of hell – knew perfectly good what buttons he had to push to get what he wanted. And if Crowley Fergus McLeod was a wise man, he'd hand him the hunter without any problems. Or at least he wouldn't try to get in his way – which was definitely the better way to solve this. Because if Samuel Campbell was found hurt in _any_ way the king of the crossroads would pay.

Dean Winchester walked up the stairs and when he reached the wooden door, he opened it. To his surprise, there weren't any demons in sight. A fact that didn't make it easier on him. Either no one was home or they were waiting for an order to attack him.

He found himself in a giant hall, in the middle of stood a coffee table and recliners. He looked around, confused by the fact that he TRULY seemed to be alone. At least he didn't sense any demons close by.

Then, slowly, the feeling of not being alone crept into his mind and a woman in a black tight dress appeared from a door to his right. She wore dark make-up and a friendly smile though there was something dangerous about her.

"Crowley is waiting for you, Mister Winchester," She said, her features remained calm.

Dean's eyes flashed black and he gave her a short nod. Highly alert, he followed her silently.

They ended up in an office-like room, where the king of the crossroads sat behind a mahogany desk.

Dean immediately recognized the items before the demon. They were Sam's. His holster with the gun, the knife, a flask with holy water, his watch and another small knife. He stopped right in front of the desk.

The muscles in Dean's neck and jaw worked. "Where is he, Crowley?"

"Gone," he answered, rather serious.

Dean's eyes were still black as the darkest night, a dangerous snarl crawling through his flaring nostrils. "You're playing with your life."

The demon blinked and looked up at the man unimpressed. "Don't hurt yourself, squirrel." Crowley clicked his tongue and turned around in his chair, facing the oil-portrait on the wall. "I handed him over to Alistair. By all means, you are capable of killing me. BUT Alistair is my boss." He turned back around in his chair to face the knight of hell. "AND I have a message for you, young skywalker." He cocked an eyebrow. "He will call you as soon as he brings the hunter wherever he wants him. He will give you instructions and coordinates where you will have to be in a certain amount of time, so that Samuel Campbell will not be killed."

"Bastard." Dean snarled and extended his hand as if to reach for Crowley's throat.

"Nah, won't work, Captain America." He smirked and sighed deeply. "I wouldn't have let you walk in here if you'd be able to squeeze my soul out of this host, would I?"

Dean Winchester pulled his lower lip up, his face screwed up in anger. His chest was heaving with raged breaths. If he couldn't use his powers on that bastard, he'd use his hands.

He made a step forward, gripped the heavy table at its side with his right hand and sent the piece of furniture flying at the other end of the room, so that there remained nothing in between himself and the crossroads demon.

"I'm gonna rip you into pieces for handing Sam over in the first place!" Dean yelled furiously.

Crowley remained calm in his chair and rose both eyebrows at him, his hands folded in his lap. "So many emotions, Dean. Tsk tsk tsk. You should calm down and think about a way to negotiate with me, shouldn't you? After all I'm the one who carved a sigil into the hunter's skin, so that his blood wouldn't be useful for Alistair. - At least not within the next thirty-six hours." He pursed his lips. "Let's call it a backup plan."

Dean cocked his head to the side and watched the demon for a very long moment.

"I bet on my bones, that Alistair won't know what hit him when he finishes his ritual, doesn't he? ... I mean ... I know you're an awful actor, but you could at least try, huh?" He smiled broadly. "I can help getting your precious back? Lets say ... If you agree on not killing me – no matter in what shape Samuel Campbell will be – and let me take Alistair's place of course?"

The knight's eyes narrowed and they morphed back into their natural colour. "You honestly think I'm letting you go after you delivered Sam to that bastard?"

Crowley's smile turned into a sly smirk. "Yes, that's what I'm saying. Because ... honestly? You have no clue where Sam will be, until Alistair tells you." He leaned back a bit and unfolded his fingers. "But as it happens ... I do know where he will bring him. I also know how many demons will be by his side and it happens that I also know that I accidentally handed him the WRONG bone ..." He paused.

The demon's eyes narrowed further. "You planned this, didn't you? - How could you know that Sam was going to try and get the bone?"

"Well, dear skywalker, It also happened that I heard about your intermezzo at the sex club and I figured, that one of you would soon try to snatch one of my most precious things from me." He shrugged. "I was just waiting for one of or the both of you to appear." He pursed his lips. "Of course I would have prefered YOU. So ... I had to change my plans a bit. And here we are. You and me – BESTIES."

"You gotta be kidding me ..." Dean huffed out a breath and rolled his eyes. "I could smite you, douchebag!"

"The hell you can. - That's my place. Everything's warded against any demonic or angelic powers." Crowley's features turned serious and he rose his voice. "So ... think about it, but don't think too long, Obi Wan's going to be busy ..."

Dean's nose wrinkled. "No way in hell you're Obi Wan." He shook his head in disbelief about what he was about to do. "Okay - Deal. You help me get Sam out and in return I won't get in between you and what's supposed to be Lucifer's place in hell."

Crowley rose from his chair and rubbed his hands together. "Fine. - it's always nice to make deals with a Winchester." The king of crossroads grinned broadly. "Shall we get to work?" He looked at the knight encouragingly.

* * *

"There we goooo ..." Alistair singsang, turning the blade over in his hand and pursed his lips. He watched the crimson run down towards the hilt, as if it was a master-piece of art. Then he looked back at Samuel Campbell, who was strapped down on an examination table, arms spread from him and strapped to the extensions.

He lay there, all bare skin, except for his lower half, where he still wore his boxer briefs and jeans. Sam panted, as he tried to breathe through the searing pain the salt in his wounds caused. Sam turned his head to the side and spit blood to the floor, which had gathered in his mouth.

"I won't tell you anything, bitch." Sam murmured, blinking his one good eye open. "I don't know where he is. - I know nothin'."

"I think you will change your mind pretty soon." Alistair's voice sent shivers down his spine. God only knew how his host came through life with it unharmed. Hell, this voice was more than just mesmerizing – it was branding itself into your brain like acid into skin.

"Screw you!" Sam burst out angrily.

"You know ... Dean will come." Alistair placed the tip of the knife at Sam's throat. "I will exchange your life for his and he will agree."

"He won't. - He's not going to do it. – EVER," Sam panted, feeling the tip of the knife dig into his skin without breaking it – for now. "He won't come."

"Oh he well, he will," Alistair said convinced. "You are something like his friend, aren't you? I am counting on Dean's human side here. He WILL come for you."

Sam huffed out a breath and closed his eyes.

"And as soon as Crowley's spell wears off, I can use your blood." He made this voice with his tongue while he drew in a slow deep breath. "And Dean is going to do the ritual. He can't say no. Not when he wants to save you." He grinned mischievously. "Though, he won't want to keep you then ..."

Sam turned his head to the side and closed his eyes for a brief moment, telling himself that it wasn't true. That Dean wouldn't be so stupid to come and get him. The demon knew that the future of humanity relied on him.

Searing pain lanced through his stomach, as the blade dug into the tender skin there, while Alistair hummed to the tune of Highway to Hell ...

* * *

Dean stood on the small balcony of Crowley's office, holding Sam's letter in his trembling hands. There were suspicious water-drops on it, where the demon's tears had soaked into it.

Those words left a bitter taste in his mouth and a heavy stone in his guts. He didn't want them to be the last thing that remained of his lover.

Again – for the sixth time – he read those last words.

_I can't let you go there, Dean._

_You deserve better. You deserve so much more._

_I will get the black bone & I will come back to you._

_Don't you worry, I've planned out everything._

_See you soon._

_Your Sam_

Dean folded the piece carefully and stuffed it back into his pocket.

_... to be continued_

* * *

_this chapter will be beta'd later on, folks. :) I can't let y'all wait for too long._


	23. Chapter 23 The Demon In Me

_THANK YOU to my always awesome BETA gothpandaotaku :) you're amazing!_

_THANK YOU for all your amazing reviews :) I love you guys!_

_THIS CHAPTER cost me about 10 years of my life. 10 freaking damn years. I was working on it for over 2 weeks ... and I can't anymore. It's time to post this chapter as it is ..._

* * *

**Obsidian ~ Raise A Little Hell**

**The Road So Far:**

_Dean stood on the small balcony of Crowley's office, holding Sam's letter in his trembling hands. There were suspicious water-drops on it, where the demon's tears had soaked into it._

_Those words left a bitter taste in his mouth and a heavy stone in his guts. He didn't want them to be the last thing that remained from his lover._

_Again – for the sixth time – he read those last words._

_I can't let you go there, Dean._

_You deserve better. You deserve so much more._

_I will get the black bone & I will come back to you._

_Don't you worry, I've planned out everything._

_See you soon._

_Your Sam_

_Dean folded the piece carefully and stuffed it back into his pocket._

* * *

**Chapter 23 ~ The Demon In Me**

It was a foggy mist at first. Then a grey path appeared before them, an outstretched highway, while AC/DC was blaring from the loudspeakers of Dean's baby. Sam rode in the passenger's seat, while Dean was humming along to one of the songs, a soft smile playing on his lips.

"Wondered when you'd show up, baby boy," he said calmly. He looked over at the confused hunter, who eyed him warily.

"Dean?"

"Who else would come for you in your subconscious mind, huh?" His smile became sad. "I need to know where you are. - You know where you are, right?"

Sam's lips formed into a thin line.

A beat of silence followed.

"Okay, I take it, you don't know where the hell you are." Dean sighed, frustrated and shook his head. "Describe the room you're in."

Sam frowned. "Is this real?"

"What the hell do you think, Babbles?" Dean gave him a warm smile. "I mean ... YES, I am here and I want to know where in Alistair's lair you're hidden. - And NOPE, this is not really real. The car's not real. The road's not real. Hell, not even the sky is and I am neither." He reached over and laid his hand on Sam's thigh.

Sam watched the not real Dean for a long moment and his eyes grew watery. "I'm sorry. It was a trap ... I thought ... well ..." He huffed out a breath. "I guess I didn't think. - I just didn't want you to do something stupid."

"That's true. You didn't think about what you were doing, Sam." Now he sounded a bit pissed, but worried. "You should have listened to me in the first place."

"Well, I couldn't let you kill yourself, douchebag!" Sam's voice was raising. "What were you even thinking? Just lettin' me alone? What the hell, Dean? 's that what you want? Just giving up?" There was so much despair and hurt in his voice.

The demon sighed and shook his head. "No. - That's not what I want. But you've to admit that it was a good plan. All our worries would've been blown away."

"Well, not quite." Sam said and shook his head. "You'd rather run than fight, Dean." He grew silent then. "You wouldn't fight for US." His lips creased. "I'd do it again if it means to safe you from doing something stupid."

"I bet you would." Dean chuckled low and sighed. "So ..." He looked back at Sam after a short glance at the road before him. "... c'mon. Tell me what the room looks like and we're gettin' you out of there, baby boy."

Sam smiled troubled, weighing if he really should tell him. Then again, Dean didn't care if he would or not. He'd come for him anyway. Just like Sam would do in his place. "It looks like it's somewhere in the basement. At least it smells like it and there are no windows. There were stairs ... an iron door." The hunter frowned suddenly, getting a weird feeling in his stomach and head. It wasn't quite pain, but felt weird and muffled, and as if he was going to just ... dissolve.

"Sam. You gotta concentrate. I need to know. Tell me everything you can remember. One thing after another. Try to focus." Dean hurried up to speak now. "I'm losing the connection, baby."

Sam nodded. "Okay ... we ... I was in a van or something. I had some sort of sack over my head – I didn't see ..." He took a sharp intake of air. It started to feel as if his molecules were shifting. "It was warm inside the building. A hall or something ... our footfalls echoed. I heard a door – maybe a wooden, heavy one. Then we walked down a corridor – by the sounds of it. Another door. Stairs." Sam wrapped his long fingers around the demon's hand on his thigh and squeezed it hard, trying to hold onto something. "An iron door. It looks like a dungeon. Chains and meat hooks. An examination table. There are guards, Dean. Guards. - And hellhounds somewhere close. I can hear them I think. - Damn it." Sam panted. He looked over at Dean, his face covered in lines of pain now. "Dean ...", he gasped

"Sammy. - How bad is it?" His look darted forth and back in between the road and his lover.

The hunter's back arched from the passenger's seat and scarlet was tainting the front of his shirt rapidly as the pain increased. At the same time, his outlines swam and it seemed as if his body was slowly dissolving into dust.

"Sam. I need to know. - WE need to know. How bad? HOW BAD, SAM?!" he demanded with panic in his voice.

But before his lover could answer, he was gone with an agonized cry, leaving nothing but a fine sheen of dust on the leather of the car's seat.

* * *

Dean's eyes snapped open, his dilated pupils seized back to small rounds. He was panting heavily, as if he just had run a mile.

Crowley sat in his chair behind his desk, which was in the same place as it had been before Dean had thrown it through the room.

Bobby stood beside him, one hand on the knight's shoulder.

"Dean?" he asked warily.

"I know where he is." He looked at his old friend first, then at Crowley, who had his fingers intertwined and was watching him closely like an eagle targeting its prey.

"You sure know, he won't let Sam go." Crowley said curiously.

"I'm going to take care of the demons. WE will get Sam out of there," was all Dean said, before he was on his feet and out of the room.

* * *

That was the plan.

They wouldn't wait for Alistair's call, since Crowley had been able to track the hunter down with a spell that didn't require human's liquids or anything genetic at all. Sure, the demon had said he knew where they'd take the hunter, but Dean had to see it with his own eyes ... he didn't trust the demon. Hell, he never trusted demons, so why start now?

They were on the road, when Alistair finally texted him the coordinates where he should be by tomorrow morning, with a picture of Sam, hung up on a chain from the ceiling in a room that pretty much looked like the dungeon Sam had described earlier.

What made the demon frown and his eyes burn was the beaten up form in the picture. Half naked. Covered in blood. Sliced flesh and skin, raw looking patches like from a defibrillator all over him ...

"I'm gonna get you out of there, baby," Dean muttered to himself and laid his phone aside to focus back on the road. "I'm comin'."

Bobby, who sat beside him, sucked in his lower lip and eyed the Winchester for a very long time, before he stared back out of the passenger's window.

Jim, who sat in the backseat with the king of crossroads glared at the demon beside him. "That better ain't be a trap, Crowley, or so help me god," he hissed through gritted teeth. "It's not like you're unbreakable."

Crowley gave the priest an amused look. His lips twitched. "Why don't you lift your robe and show me your pretty pink panties?"

"Screw you, bastard," Jim countered.

"Is a father even allowed to take such names in his mouth?" The demon wouldn't give in. "Does it have something to do with panties?"

"Shut up!" Dean snapped. "If you don't want me to make _you_ wear panties!"

Everyone fell silent.

"You got a plan about how to get in there and out again?" Bobby asked after a long while.

"We're goin' in there and out again," Dean answered calmly.

"That's it?" Bobby Singer seemed surprised – and confused.

"That's it." The knight stole a glance at him.

"Don't you think that we need a plan?" Jim asked then.

"That's the plan. We won't know if Sam's still in the basement. We don't know how many guards or hounds there are. We'll have to go in there and out again, relying on our instincts." Dean glanced into the rearview mirror. "We'll just have to be careful." He smiled strained.

"So ... Me, Jim and douchy back there are going to get Sam out of there and you wanna take on Alistair? On your own?" Bobby huffed out a breath. "How do you think this will work?"

"It will. - Trust me." Dean sounded reassuring and confident. Just because it had to work. They had to get Sam out of there and they had to take Alistair down, or they would never be left alone. So yes. It would work and everything would be just fine. He'd stitch Sam up, take care that he wouldn't overdo himself and they'd have loads of sex afterwards, _damn it_.

When all of this was over, they'd take off for a month or two. Dean would take the hunter somewhere warm, where no ugly things were eating people alive and where no poltergeist or ghosts were haunting innocent ones.

* * *

The hunter tensed in his restrains, as he heard the iron door to his prison slide open. The sound of the footfalls let on, that it was Alistair who coming back.

"You had a proper night's rest, Sam?" the man asked calmly, as he passed the table with utensils.

"You done with fucking your fury pets?" the hunter shot back hoarsely, his voice drained of all strength.

Alistair rose an eyebrow at the young man and pursed his lips. "I am impressed. Still hoping that someone comes to your rescue?" the demon taunted. He came closer, as he laid his eyes on his handiwork before him.

Clean skin, broken by reddish gashes. Some of them stitched up carelessly, some still open and oozing blood. There were a hand full of bruises and lacerations all over the hunter's pale chest.

"No one comes." Sam looked the man straight in the eyes. "I know that no one comes."

"That's where you are wrong, boy. - Dean knows where you are. I sent him a text an hour ago." He watched the hunter closely. "He is going to come and take his righteous place in hell. Maybe Azazel didn't know how to get a hold of him. But I sure as hell do." A mischievous smirk formed on the demon's lips and his upper lip twitched in anticipation. "He likes you. - I think ... he even LOVES you, Samuel. He will come to free you, so that you're alive even when he won't be able to spend quality time by your side anymore." He tilted his head to the side. "That's IF there'll be still something like pity left."

Sam huffed out a breath. Sure Dean would come to get him. He knew it. But that didn't mean that Alistair needed to know that Sam was hoping for the knight to come and free him rather sooner than later.

"The only thing is ... I can't let you live. He'd always have you in the back of his mind as something good." Again the man's lips twitched. "Well – you will SURVIVE, that's for sure. But only long enough to make him compliant."

If Sam would have enough saliva, he would've spit the bastard right in the face. So instead he decided to ignore him and turned his head to the side, facing the wall with the hooks and chains.

"Screw you," Sam muttered silently, trying to suppress his tears. Hell, this was one of the worst situations to cry in – specially in front of a demon.

This was all his fault. Not just that Dean was about to give himself up. Also, that his lover was running straight into a trap. He knew, that Dean knew, that it was a trap – and still he was coming.

The hunter blew out a shuddering breath.

Dean would become what he didn't want to become. He'd turn into something dangerous – a killing machine – just because of him. Alistair would get what he had been longing for – completely for free.

* * *

It took them just a couple of hours to get to their destination smack in the middle of in nowhere. On their way there, they picked up Pastor Jim, since they figured they'd need every backup available.

Alistair wouldn't be awaiting them yet. At least Dean hoped so.

They parked the car somewhere alongside the main road which led to Alistair's lair about a mile behind a row of trees. They kept in the shadows, so that not even the slightest movements were sensible in the darkness of the night. Not for human eyes anyway.

Like the predator he was, Dean took out two hellhounds, with nothing but a snap of his fingers. The same fate hit three demons, completely unaware of the intruders.

They entered the demon's property through the garden, which lay at the back of the villa-like building. Once inside, the four of them got welcomed by a hellhound, which Dean took out the same way he had silenced the others.

Dean turned around and waited for Bobby to climb through the open window, so that he'd have everyone's attention. He gave them a sign to stick together and follow him.

The only one who didn't seem to approve was Crowley. The crossroads demon just rose an eyebrow at the knight and rolled his eyes.

"That's ridiculous," Crowley said out loud and snapped his fingers.

But nothing happened.

The king of crossroads looked around, confusion written all over his face.

"Nah, nah, nah," a sing-sang-voice filled the room, "That'd be rude, wouldn't it? - _Crowley_? You already screwed my plans up plenty."

Dean straightened up, while the humans among them froze in place.

A tall man, with reddish hair and beard walked appeared from behind the corner, wearing an amused smirk on his lips. "I wondered why you didn't manage to get here sooner, Dean." He showed his perfectly white teeth.

"You hand the hunter over now. And I won't kill you." Dean held his composure and coolness, no matter how worked up he was on the inside. He knew he had to play it cool. As soon as Alistair would think that Sam meant _more_ to him, the demon would use it against all of them – specially Dean.

"You don't have to keep up your facade, Winchester." Alistair stopped in the middle of the room, eying the intruders closely, before he turned his attention back to the knight of hell. "You give it up to me. You do the ritual I've prepared and I MAY let Samuel Campbell go ..." He shrugged and pursed his lips pensively for a moment, "... well, he won't be able to GO per say – but your friends ..." He waved at Bobby and Jim. "... can carry him."

Dean seemed to shrug the demon's dare off, not giving away the boiling white rage inside of him. Though he couldn't hide away the spark of anger, which illuminated his firey green eyes.

"He won't be of any use to me if he's not capable of walking – or speaking, _Alistair_," Dean reminded him. "Tell me why I shouldn't exorcize you right here and now and take back what's mine." ... his last word was definitely a growl.

Alistair chuckled and shook his head. "Because you can't. - You never could. I'm immune, knight, and you know it. There's nothing that'd be capable of killing either of us." He thrust his jaw forward and clicked with his tongue. "That doesn't mean that I can't break you, can I?" He cocked an eyebrow and gestured towards a door in the back, which slid open slowly.

Dean huffed out a laugh. "I'd love to see you try, bastard."

While Alistair blinked aside, Dean shared a short glance with Bobby, who gave him a barely visible nod back. The grizzled hunter shifted on his feet and moved a bit, so that most of him was blocked by Dean from Alistair's view. His left hand slid into his jacket.

The knight's expression changed into something shocked – but just for a moment – as his look fell on two big men, who where dragging a human into the room.

Alistair waved at them, and the black-eyed men let go. The body crumbled to the floor with a gasp and a pained whimper, followed by a whine.

Dean brought up all his self-control, to not hurry to the hunter's side and show his soft side. It took everything inside him to not yell at Alistair and curse as he saw the bruises, gashes and lacerations all over the human's torso and arms.

Sam's face was blocked by his own lower arm and shaggy hair, so that the knight couldn't take in the damage that had been made there ... he didn't need to see anyway. He already knew. He knew, that the hunter's body was broken ...

"He ain't of no use to me like this," Dean stated grimly and made a step forward as he looked up at the other demon. He made himself even bigger, his eyes flashed obsidian and he rose his hand towards Alistair.

* * *

Sam shifted a bit. There wasn't a lot he was aware of besides the agonizing pain in his body. He couldn't see through his swollen shut eyes and lesser did he understand what was spoken. Everything sounded like he was under water ...

The last beating must've gotten him a bad concussion or even worse ... at least that was what flashed through his thoughts briefly, before the pain was overtaking his mind again. Sam's limbs felt heavy and his joints hurt like a bitch. The roaring in his ears and head was increasing slowly as the copper taste of blood on his tongue set his taste buds out of order.

There wasn't a single part of him that wasn't hurting in some way – not even his hands. The cool tiles beneath him seemed to ease the burning sensation on his skin though – something he was relieved about – somehow.

Not that he could find a single word in his foggy brain for any of what he was sensing or feeling right now. Nothing seemed to fit – and somewhere deep down he hoped that there'd soon be an end to his torture. Even if it meant that he'd die.

To be honest – he wouldn't even bother right now. Sam Campbell just wanted the pain to stop.

* * *

The very next moment, the demon found himself pinned to the wall above the fireplace.

"You are right." Dean made a step forward. "I can't kill you like this." Another step forward, as his fingers curled inwards a bit. He stole a glance over his shoulder, towards Bobby, who was pulling out a knife with a black sheath from under his jacket.

The two men, who still flanked the hunter on the floor tensed up and made an attempt to leave their place. But Dean gave them a short glare, which seemed to stop them immediately. No one was crazy enough to try to go for the knight of hell without proper back-up or a plan of how to capture him.

The grizzled hunter stepped forward and handed the knife to Dean. "But Sam found a way to sedate me." His cool features were turning feral and dangerous. "My good ole friend changed the substance though ... just a bit, you know?" Dean pursed his lips. As much as he wanted to tear the demon apart right now, he had more urgent things to take care of: SAM. "So ... I am going to sedate you. - And then ... THEN I will take my sweet time with you." He clicked with his tongue. "You'd wish you'd be back in hell, buddy," Dean growled.

It hadn't taken long for him to figure out, that the demon who was wearing Alistair's meatsuit wasn't Alistair anymore. Whatever was going down here, something was foul about the situation. Alistair himself would've never allowed the knight to manhandle him like this – not by a long shot.

So yeah – something was horribly off about this situation and the fact, that Alistair wasn't there ...

Dean pulled a syringe from the pocket of his jacket with his free and uncapped it with his mouth. "I promise ... it's gonna pinch a bit. - Maybe even burn." A sly grin was forming on his lips, his black eyes gleaming mischievously in the dim light. Even if this bastard wasn't Alistair, he'd take him with him – interrogate him – and would get the answers he needed.

The demon hissed dangerously at the knight. "It won't work on me. And you know it." His look darted towards the both gorillas. "Get him!"

The men stared at their boss for a brief moment before they turned their attention back towards Dean, who just rose an eyebrow at their boss and them. "You have two choices. Either you try to fight me and die, or you accept Crowley here as your new leader and maybe get out of here alive." The knight nodded towards the black dressed man.

Crowley grinned broadly and gave them a wave. "Hello there."

The two demons didn't move.

"Looks like you've just got discharged, _Alistair_." Dean thrust his jaw forward.

Somehow this was going too easy – as if it was meant to work that way. He had at least expected that Alistair would try to fight him in some kind of way. After all the man had earned the black belt of torture in hell. What was even worse was, that Not-Alistair didn't seem to even want to put up a fight – at least not a dirty one, like Dean had figured he would. The demon wasn't even trying to save his skin ...

Anyways. Whatever it was, as long as it meant they'd get Sam out of there – sooner than later – he was cool with it and would deal with whatever would come later on then.

He spit the cap aside and let the syringe fly across the room, letting it sink straight into the demon's chest, emptying its contents into the demon's heart.

A silent cry died on Not-Alistair's lips as his eyes rolled back in his skull and Dean let go of him, letting him fall to the floor carelessly.

He gave the two men, who were still flanking the human on the floor, a look before he snapped his fingers. The men's bodies lit up reddish for a short moment, before they sank to the floor with their eyes burned out of their skulls.

"Hey! These were mine!" Crowley growled angrily.

Dean ignored him. The only thing that counted was Sam – only Sam.

"Sammy." Dean's face and look changed within seconds into a worried, caring mask of honesty. He was at the hunter's side the very next moment and fell on his knees beside the battered and bloody human form.

He shoved the bitter taste, that this hadn't gone down as he had thought it would, aside. What bothered him though, was the fact, that there weren't any other demons around. Not even a single one ...

"Sammy," he whispered hoarsely, "Hold on, Baby, hold on."

Both of Sam's eyes were swollen shut, blood was oozing from his nostrils, mouth and from his left ear. Dean could tell – from what he had seen – that the hunter must have at least a couple of fractured ribs, a dislocated shoulder and not to mention the blood loss from the gashes, lacerations and the still bleeding cut alongside Sam's lower arm.

Dean didn't dare to touch him, since he was afraid to do more harm to him than good. He brushed over the one spot that wasn't bruised on Sam's left cheek bone, wiping away tears and dried blood. He brushed strands of damp hair aside, as he took in the damage on Sam's face.

There wasn't a lot left that let on, that this once was Samuel Campbell.

"You're such a stupid bastard." The demon swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat and closed his eyes for a moment.

"Couldn't," Sam rasped out and tried to move his hand, feeling his way upwards over the cold dirty tiles beneath him. "Dean ... Dean ..."

He could FEEL him. Sam KNEW that it was Dean – it had to be Dean. No one else would touch him that way ...

The knight laid his hand over Sam's and stopped his attempt to reach up. Dean then shrugged off his jacket and laid it carefully over Sam's naked and battered torso.

"I know ..." He wouldn't have betrayed Sam either. He'd have done exactly the same ...

Bobby came up behind him, having already the phone on his ear and was talking to 911.

Dean looked up at the grizzled man and then he looked towards Crowley. "Tell them we're comin'," he said, as he shared a short glance with Robert Singer. Then he looked over at the newly crowned king of hell. "Zap us to the closest hospital."

"Cold ..." Sam's voice was thin and barely audible but Dean heard him.

His gaze traveled down the dirty jeans and towards the man's bare feet. "I know, baby. I know. You just ... gotta hold on, okay? We're gonna get you help."

He wanted to pull him into his lap, hold him ... but he couldn't. Only god knew what kind of internal injuries he might have. Dean just dared to rest his hand on Sam's back, barely touching him. Sam's breathes were shallow and uneven and they sounded wet and raspy.

"Dean ..." It was merely a breath this time.

"I can't." Crowley said calmly, "This place is warded. You need to get him out of here before I can work my magic ..."

The knight cursed under his breath, as he took the shivering form in once more. His hands were balled into tight fists and shaking with the effort of not breaking down right there.

"Fine," Dean inched a bit closer to the human form. "Sammy ... I'm gonna have to carry you ... it's gonna hurt ..."

Bobby snapped his phone shut and turned towards the knight. "They'll be waiting. - Just make sure you guys don't pop up right at the front entrance," he warned them calmly.

Dean gave him a short nod, before he eased his arms under the injured man and lifted him up as carefully as possible.

Sam felt the change in his position. He felt a firm grip and a warm surface against his right flank. He felt his head spin brutally as it lolled to the side. Then everything went black for ... he didn't know for how long, he just knew it went black. As he was aware again – at least halfway aware – he felt his legs sway as they dangled in midair. The hunter felt the ache of his ribs under a tight hold. But he also felt warm puffs of air against his face and exposed neck occasionally ...

Dean shifted the younger man in his arms a bit, as they reached the small terrace in front of the building with Crowley right beside them.

"Lets hop on the pony, shall we?" Crowley laid his hand on Dean's shoulder and the very next moment they were gone and appeared in the alley beside a giant building, which had to be the hospital.

Dean swayed for a millisecond and tightened his hold on the young man in his arms.

Crowley cleared his throat and blew out a long breath. "Next time you need something – don't call." He patted the knight's shoulder. "See you around though," and with that the newly crowned king was gone.

Dean huffed out a breath as he stole a glance at the man's face in his arms. Sam was barely breathing and his skin felt cold and clammy.

The knight looked around hastily, trying to make out where they had landed. Gladly there weren't a lot of directions to go and so he chose the one where the lights were coming from, which led him directly towards the front entrance of the clinic.

It wasn't a long way, nor was he weak or something, but Dean started to feel the weight of his lover's form weighing heavy in his arms the closer he came. Dean had barely rounded the corner, when he spotted a crowd of people in hospital gowns, scrubs and a gurney.

"Here!" he yelled and hurried his pace.

The doctors and nurses spun around and looked into his direction as if on command. Then everything went down too fast – too blurry for Dean. Those humans hurried towards him with the gurney and the next thing he knew was, that two men were taking Sam away from him and eased him onto the gurney.

Dean hurried after them, as they wheeled him into the building, directly into the ER, where they brought him into a trauma room, where the knight wasn't allowed to follow.

He wiped over his face, smearing sticky crimson over his forehead and cheek in the process. A nurse stood before him, one hand on his chest, telling him that he had to wait here and asked if he was hurt too.

Dean Winchester shook his head slowly, his gaze never leaving the door behind which Sam had disappeared. He felt a pair of hands on him and he followed the gentle push towards another gurney behind blue curtains.

The nurse was there again, right in front of his face, talking to him.

"I'm fine," he muttered, not noticing the way his own hands shook and his knees buckled. He needed to get his shit together. Damn it, he was a knight of hell and not supposed to feel like this – all shaken up and nauseous.

"No, Sir. You're not." it sounded strict and demanding and for a fact these were the first words that rang through to him. "So you sit here and wait for a doctor to check you over."

This was ridiculous. He wasn't hurt. Sam was hurt. Sam was the one who needed help, so what sending him a doctor for, when he would be needed elsewhere.

"I said." His eyes focused on the nurse. "I'm fine."

The young woman with short pixie-cut hair backed off a bit and let go of Dean's shoulders. "You sure don't look fine." She seemed to be a stern one and a very mighty one too. Carolyn was what stood on the patch on her pink shirt. Carolyn Webber. A strong name. Though she was small and didn't look like someone who was capable of manhandling a guy like him – let alone a knight of hell – in any way.

"Even if it's JUST shock you have to sit down before you faint," she added calmly.

Dean's eyebrows furrowed. The crease in between his brows shrank. "I don't faint."

"Well, but you could pass out." She rose both eyebrows to underline her words and stemmed her fists into her waist. "And I don't want to have you lying in the damn hall." Now she pursed her thin rose lips and thrust her jaw forward.

Dean was about to jump from the gurney. He had more important things to do right now – like trying to find someone who'll check on Sam for him ...

"He's your friend, isn't he?" She put a firm hand on his shoulder and urged him back. "Why don't you tell me what happened?"

Dean glared at her.

"Look. - You can't do anything right now, Mister. Our docs are the best. They're gonna take care of him." She let go of Dean's shoulder, when he sat back down. "The only thing you can do is to wait until they're done." Carolyn searched the knight's face intently. "So – we can shorten the time a bit by YOU and ME filling out the forms. And telling me what happened to him, huh?"

Nope, Dean Winchester wasn't interested in forms and telling anyone anything. Though – she was right. The only thing he could do now was waiting.

"Fine," he growled.

"Fine," she said. "You stay here, I'll get the papers."

Dean obeyed. While he sat there, he noticed his shaky, bloody hands. The crimson smears on his shirt, the stench of blood which surrounded him ... Sam's blood ...

* * *

Bobby took care of the police men who had been called. Whatever story he had figured out to tell them, it seemed satisfying. On top of all, the presence of a father (Pastor Jim) seemed to make his story even more believable to them.

* * *

Dean sat there in one of the most uncomfortable plastic chairs in the entire world. His hands were still covered in dried blood – so were his clothes.

Two agonizing long hours passed since he had filled out the papers with the nurse. And no sign of anyone in there that'd tell him about Sam. No one ... except Carolyn, who had told him that they had to drill holes into Sam's skull to release some pressure from his brain.

Okay, the nurse hadn't told him _just _that – but in plain english that was it. Also, that Samuel Campbell had needed CPR and that they were about to stanch a bleeding in his abdomen. Something she wasn't allowed to tell him, but did anyway, since Dean demanded to get some news. Not even the fact that a doctor would come for him and tell him everything in detail satisfy his need to know what was going on behind those doors.

Some time during the early morning, Bobby had brought coffee and donuts. But Dean wasn't hungry and the coffee tasted like shit.

"Dean. - You know that was too easy, don't you?" Bobby said quietly after a long sip from his warm coffee.

The knight pursed his lips and looked at the grizzled mechanic, asking him with his eyes if it was necessary to talk about this right the fuck now.

"It wasn't Alistair," Dean muttered as he cast his look back down. "Whoever it was. It wasn't Alistair. - He's still out there somewhere." He took in a deep breath. "And no. I don't know why he made this up. I have no clue why he would give up his vessel and sacrifice another demon. I don't know WHY, okay?" ... it was pretty pointless of Alistair to act that way – unless he had other plans. "But we still have the demon – and I'll be damned if I don't get any informations out of that bastard."

The muscles in Dean's jaw worked forcefully, as he gazed up at his old friend. "No one hurts what's mine without paying for it. NO ONE."

* * *

It was about seven in the morning, when finally – mercifully – a doctor appeared and asked for Mister Winchester.

Dean was up and on his feet in an instant, closing the distance between himself and the doctor in no time.

"How's Sam?" he blurted out.

"Mister Winchester." The tall man in scrubs and blue shirt laid his hand on the knight's shoulder and nodded towards the chairs where he just had come from. "We better sit down and talk in private ..."

Dean swallowed around the giant lump in his throat as he obeyed without a word, trying to prepare himself for the news about Sam's state.

* * *

He couldn't stay at the hospital and wait for the inevitable. He couldn't. Dean couldn't see Sam die, couldn't stand the thought that it was his fault. - Because he had been stubborn. Because Sam had thought he needed to save HIM ... HIM – the man with the black, rotten soul, who didn't deserve rescue. Who didn't deserve good things – not by a long shot.

What he had done was inexcusable.

And now? NOW he was going to lose the one thing that had managed to crawl its way into his heart. The one person, he had ALLOWED to see a completely different side of him.

No. he wasn't going to watch Sam die. He wasn't going to let himself be reminded what good he _could've_ had ...

He wouldn't watch Sam die in a hospital, attached to cables, tubes and god knew what else. He couldn't sit there, beside the hunter's bed and hold his cold and clammy hand until the machines would start to go off and ring in his dying.

THAT was something he couldn't do ... no way.

So he stumbled through the alleys and side roads of this god-forsaken town. First he had been running, as if he could shake off the tightness in his chest and knot in his guts. - But now? ... Now he felt that he couldn't get rid of this that easy. And he slowed down.

Tears glistening in his wild emerald-green eyes.

He was too taken in by his own thoughts that he didn't recognize the figure before him and ran into it. Dean tumbled back a bit, while the figure in the darkness would stand its ground.

"Hey there, buddy," a male voice echoed through the alley.

Dean blew out a shuddering breath and wiped over his face to clear his vision. "Fuck off," he hissed.

"It's a pity." Yellow eyes gleamed in the pale light. "You should've known that it's going to end like this, kiddo."

Dean blinked at the man. Sure he knew in an instant that it was a demon who had crossed his path. And he'd be damned if he wouldn't recognize those eyes anywhere.

"Azazel." Dean straightened up. In an instant, his mind spun around and was back in fighting-mode in less than a second. "What do you want?"

The figure moved forward, so that its face was illuminated by one of the street lamps. The male host pursed its lips and sucked in a slow breath in between its teeth.

"You know what I want. - And you know I will pay for it." The bastard smiled satisfied.

"There's nothing I want." Dean's eyes narrowed at the man who had once killed his family. "Not from you anyways."

Yellow Eyes chuckled and shook his head as he rose his pointing finger. "There is something."

"I don't think that you're allowed to make deals with me, are you? - Where's Alistair?" Dean wasn't stupid. He knew how those things worked.

"He's dead. I sent him back into that firy pit," he explained lightly and made another attempt to come closer to Dean, but the knight straightened up and pulled the knife with the black grind from behind his back.

"Is that so?" The knight knew that demons lie. They were bastards. All of them.

"Aren't you happy about it? I saved dear Sammy-boy from him." Azazel rose an eyebrow and looked at Dean as if he was waiting for praise.

"You didn't save him. - He's going to die," Dean spat back angrily.

"I came a bit too late I suppose." Azazel's look flickered towards the knife and back up at Dean's face. "Do we really need this thing?" He waved at the knife.

Dean grinned slyly. "So ... what'd be the deal?" He sniffed.

"I have to admit, that Alistair was very useful ... for quite some time. And his plan was surely a good one ... but I honestly doubted that killing your favorite play-thing would change your view of things." He pursed his lips again. "BUT ... saving your pet would surely be in your interests, wouldn't it?"

The muscles in Dean's jaw worked. He knew about Azazel and the things he was capable of. He also knew, that with a deal, the demon would be able to save Sam's life. - It was just about the price he had to pay.

"It would," Dean admitted. "What'd be the deal?"

"You're coming with me – we do the ritual ... We make Crowley pay for even thinking about taking over hell. - And you become what you're supposed to." Azazel sighed deeply. "And then ... then we're going to free the four horsemen and Lucifer and watch the earth burn." It was a gleeful grin on those creased lips, that made Dean's intestines churn.

"Sam'd be dead nonetheless," Dean shot back coldly. "What's the point in making a deal like that?"

The demon's grin turned smug. "He won't. I promise he's going to be all yours."

The knight huffed out a breath. "That's so?" It sounded as if he was playing with the thought of it.

"That's so, kiddo." Azazel looked as if he had already won.

Dean cast his look down for a split moment, before he looked back up and tilted his head to the side. "Where do I have to sign?"

"That's my boy." Azazel made another step towards Dean and pulled a small knife from his belt. With a swift motion, he graced his palm and extended his hand. "We seal it with blood. Yours and mine."

The knight seemed to hesitate for a long moment before he nodded to himself. "Sam will be just fine? He's going to wake up and walk out of the hospital alive?"

Dean locked his eyes with the demon's.  
Azazel chuckled amused. "Well, he won't jump up from his death-bed of course. But YES, he will survive the night and all the following ones and he will leave the hospital on his feet."

"Good." His grip on the knife tightened, as he guided it towards his own hand. "Deal."

There wasn't a lot that would've been able to wipe that satisfied sly smile from Azazel's face – except for the knife, which found itself a split second later in his chest ...

_... to be continued_

* * *

_nahhh ... I don't do deathfics. - though I feel the massive urge of finishing that fic before I'm giving up on it._


	24. Chapter 24 Trying To Live

**WARNINGS**: This chapter is kind of ... angsty and full of emotional hurt. I'd even say it's emotional torture, but I'm not in the place to judge ... I'm leaving that part to all of YOU ;)

* * *

**Obsidian ~ Raise A Little hell**

**The Road So Far:**

_"That's my boy." Azazel made another step towards Dean and pulled a small knife from his belt. With a swift motion, he graced his palm and extended his hand. "We seal it with blood. Yours and mine."_

_The knight seemed to hesitate for a long moment before he nodded to himself. "Sam will be just fine? He's going to wake up and walk out of the hospital alive?"_

_Dean locked his eyes with the demon's.  
Azazel chuckled amused. "Well, he won't jump up from his death-bed of course. But YES, he will survive the night and all the following ones and he will leave the hospital on his feet."_

_"Good." His grip on the knife tightened, as he guided it towards his own hand. "Deal."_

_There wasn't a lot that would've been able to wipe that satisfied sly smile from Azazel's face – except for the knife, which found itself a split second later in his chest ..._

* * *

**Chapter 24 ~ Trying To Live**

Dean had his face buried in his hands. The soft stubbles of his unshaved face digging gently into his palms. He held his eyes closed, not wanting to remember – never wanting to remember.

The hospital room was now empty, the bed made. Sam's belongings – which hadn't been a lot – were already stored in his baby's trunk.

They should've been gone about an hour ago. But Dean couldn't bring himself to leave like that. Not after months of hoping, begging and praying (YES praying), that Sam would wake up some day. And on some days, Dean thought it would be better if he wouldn't wake up at all. If he'd just slip away ... Because he wasn't sure how Sam would take the state he was in ... a shadow of himself.

Barely 170 lbs of flesh and bones. Not even the nasal tube had managed to keep him fed properly ... at least it didn't look that way.

Though, time had healed Sam's injuries – at least those on the outside. No one could tell what would be left of HIM when he'd wake up. IF he'd wake up.

Dean wiped over his face and huffed out a breath.

Yeah, the past months had been a torturous up and down. At least until twenty-seven days ago. A day, he'd never forget – ever in his whole damn life.

The luck ... and the sorrow ...

Yeah, Sam _had_ woken up. He had opened his eyes – but ...

"You ready, boy?" Bobby's gruff voice cut through his thoughts like a warm spoon slid through ice-cream.

Dean's head snapped up and he looked at the older man. "Yeah ... yeah I guess I am," he muttered.

"Fine. Don't want to let him wait too long, do we?" There was this reassuring smile on the mechanic's face. One he hadn't seen since the day Sam had opened his eyes. A look and smile that said everything was going to be okay now ... but it wasn't.

Dean stood up slowly and glanced back at the made bed. "Are you sure that it's not too soon?"

Bobby shook his head. "Nope. It's not. You both are gonna figure it out, trust me."

The knight nodded to himself. He knew it wouldn't be easy. Nothing was ever easy. But Sam was alive. His partner, lover, mate was waiting for him in the car, ready to head HOME.

HOME. It sounded so easy and familiar though foreign. He never had a home – not really. And now? Now he was going to get one – just like that. He was going to settle down, work on the salvage (and hustle pool of course) to earn money.

He ran his hands through his short hair and thrust his jaw forward. "Lets get out of here."

Dean didn't look back. Not once. He knew that this day would come. The day they said that Sam was ready to leave the hospital. It wasn't that he wasn't happy about it – it was more that he wasn't sure if he'd be capable of taking care of Sam like he deserved.

Those thoughts guided him down the corridor, past the nurses, who waved him good-bye and wished him and his boyfriend luck. The thoughts wouldn't let go, until he was out of the building and in the bright warm sunlight of this late April day. The clammy feeling lifted, as he spotted his baby in the driveway of the hospital. The one thing that would never change – his car.

While he rounded his vehicle, Dean's fingers traced along the black metal and opened the driver's door.

He slipped behind the wheel and griped it with his left hand, while his right one searched the closeness to something else. SOMEONE else.

The tall, but skinny form in the passenger's seat turned its head towards him, a weak smile on his lips and giant sad hazel-eyes looking at him.

"You ready to dump that place for good?" Dean asked with a warm smile, as he laid his hand on the thin thigh of the young hunter.

Sam nodded. "Sure. If you are ...", he said and laid his hand over Dean's.

"Always, baby boy."

Sam wasn't the same man he had been before. He would never be. Despite the fact that he had too little weight on his hips, it reached so much deeper than just the shape he had now. Deep down in his mind he seemed to be pensive and sad the whole time. Besides the torturous time he had spent in the demon's fangs, his actual state of being a liability to everyone around him seemed to be the topping on his cupcake.

There hadn't been any laughter those days. As if he was embarrassed, or wasn't allowed to show joy ... or something else deeply fundamental that was eating the hunter up from the inside.

"You tell me if you need me to stop, 'kay?", Dean offered, as he turned the ignition. "Bobby's on our heels ..."

Sam nodded – and his bottom-lip quivered. AGAIN.

Dean knew he was crying a lot ever since he woke up. Though Sam would never cry in his presence ... only when no one would be around. Sometimes the nurses would catch him though ...

The knight wasn't stupid. He knew ... he saw it ... the red rimmed, watery eyes, the traces of tears on the man's cheeks.

Sam hadn't even once told him to go away and leave him be. He hadn't once said, that he didn't want Dean there. But the demon had never given in to it. EVER. He stayed right at Sam's side during his therapies and tried to help the best he could.

* * *

They were on the road for the better part of the day already, just an hour away from the Salvage. Dean's hand had never left the hunter's thigh, except when he had to handle the gear shift.

Sam had fallen asleep quickly and Dean had turned up the heater despite the fact that he himself didn't feel cold at all. But he knew that Sam would. He was freezing a lot lately, due to the lack of fat on his bones and despite the warmth of the upcoming summer-days.

A wave of relief washed over the demon, when they finally drove up the driveway of Bobby's Salvage. He reversed his baby, so that the passenger's side was closest to the porch and that Sam didn't have that far. Despite the fact that Sam had been sleeping most of their drive, he'd be tired and would appreciate being able to stretch out on a flat surface.

The demon killed the ignition.

"There we go," Dean breathed and looked into the rearview mirror, where he spotted the older man's truck pull up right behind his baby. He looked over at Sam and squeezed his thigh gently. "Rise and shine, Sammy," he said and rubbed gently up and down his thigh. "We're here."

Sam stirred and moaned. "D'n?" he muttered, confused – something he was pretty often these days after waking up.

"Yep, babe. - We're at Bobby's." He waited for Sam to open his eyes and let him adjust to the bright light and his surroundings.

"Bobby's," Sam muttered, his forehead still creased in lines of irritation.

Dean watched him closely for a couple of long minutes and let him figure it out by himself. "You ready to get inside?" he asked after a long while.

Bobby had already gotten inside and had left the door open for the both of them, just to come back out minutes later and watch the two inhabitants of the black vehicle.

Sam tried to not look as confused as he felt. Ever since he had woken up from his coma, he needed quite some time to sort things in his mind out - And he hated it. He knew he was slow and that he was supposed to orient faster, but he simply couldn't.

The doctors had told him that it'd get better and that it would just take time. It was because of the intracranial bleeding and they told him that he was _lucky_- According to them it could've been a lot worse ...

So Sam decided to take what he got, though, sometimes he wished (not that he ever said it out loud) that he'd just died back then. So no – Samuel Campbell didn't think that he was a lucky one at all. Because THIS? THIS wasn't living ... at least not the way it should be.

"You ready?" Dean asked again, hesitation in his voice.

Sam nodded as he sucked in his bottom lip and looked over at the knight of hell with big eyes. He didn't have another choice than to be ready, did he?

"Yeah," he answered quietly.

Dean gave his thigh a final squeeze, before he got out of the car and rounded it, giving Bobby a short nod on his way towards the older man's truck. Bobby followed the untold request and went down the porch towards the passenger's side of Dean's car. The older man wrenched the door open.

"How was the drive, kiddo?" he asked as casual as possible in their situation and smiled at him warmly.

Sam smiled back – an utterly fake smile anyway. "I slept." He sounded kind of embarrassed.

"See, told you I ain't a crappy driver!" Dean called out cheerily from behind Bobby's vehicle, as he pulled something from the bed with a loud clink.

"Wonder the boy's gettin' out of ya' car alive, boy!" Bobby called back, "You drove over about five red traffic lights!"

Sam chuckled.

"Well ..." Dean groaned as he worked on something out of the both men's few. "... it's not like I don't have practice." He grunted – already annoyed – and kicked against something.

Dean came back out between the pick up and his baby, shoving a wheelchair in front of him. Bobby backed away from the car and made some space, taking Dean's place behind the chair, and Dean took his.

"You ready, Baby boy?" he asked with a gentle smirk (however smirks could be possibly gentle, Dean managed it).

Sam blushed and cast his look down, nodding. He'd never get used to this – not to that chair – not to Dean having to take care of him. Hell – he so wished he'd be dead and out of everyone's way.

"Good. You wanna stay in the kitchen for a while or lay down upstairs?" Dean asked.

"I'd like to stretch out a bit," Sam muttered softly, "If that's okay with the both of you?"

Bobby chuckled, embarrassed and shook his head. "I don't bother. Whatever you want, kiddo. It's on you."

"You heard the old man," Dean squat down. "So we're gonna get you upstairs – well ... first toilet, huh?"

"I don't think I need to go." Sam blushed deeper. It was one thing to get carried and heaved around by the nurses ... but another one, when your lover (if Dean was even a lover anymore to him) had to do things like that.

"You heard the therapists. Don't hold back. A bit of rubbing, knocking ..." Dean stopped himself and sighed deeply. "It's gonna get better, Sammy. Trust me."

The hunter stole a glance at the older man. "Don't say things like that." he looked pleading. Sam couldn't listen to things like this anymore, since he knew that nothing would get any better. Not as he was now. Not in a lifetime.

Dean huffed out a breath. Even more difficult than dealing with Sam's physical losses, was his bad mood, which the doctors had declared to be a severe depression ...

"Fine. I won't say things like that." Dean eased his arms under Sam and got him out of the car – not so gracefully. Instinctively, Sam wrapped his arms around the demon's neck and held onto him as good as he could – what wasn't a lot, since he still felt weak.

He carried the young man inside the house and up the stairs into their room – a room, which Bobby and Jim had prepared for the day Sam would come home. There was new color on the walls, a giant double bed in the middle of the room (which was a bit higher than usual ones) and a small cupboard on the opposite side – enough room to move around inside with a wheelchair.

Sam didn't look around – he didn't dare to.

Before he headed towards the bed, Dean brought the hunter into the bathroom, where the both of them worked awkwardly on getting his sweats and pants down, to sit Sam onto the toilet. The hunter looked anywhere but the tiles in between his feet, while he stimulated his bladder by knocking and rubbing his lower stomach.

Sam breathed out a sigh of relief, when he was done and gave Dean a short nod.

It didn't take a lot of effort for the demon to carry his lover over to the bed and settle him on it. Sam weighed nothing – literally. He was way too thin for his size now.

Dean eased him onto the soft mattress and the comforter, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead, nose and lips. He stripped his shoes off and stole another kiss from the man's soft lips, before he went to shut the door. Dean was back the next moment, on the other side of the bed and laid down on his side.

"You comfortable?" Dean asked, as he fumbled for one of the blankets at the foot of the bed.

Sam nodded, shifting his head a bit on the soft pillow.

Dean pulled the blanket up over Sam and himself and reached for his hand. "Your fingers are cold," he whispered.

"It's fine, Dean. I'm fine," Sam muttered, already sleepy again.

"No. - You shouldn't freeze. It's not a big deal. You think you need another blanket?"

Sam turned his head towards Dean, who was inching even closer until their bodies made contact. He shook his head again.

"Good. Get some more sleep. - I'm right here with ya'."

"You don't have to stay, Dean. You can-" Sam didn't come any further.

"I'm tired, Sammy," Dean muttered and nuzzled into Sam's shoulder. He wasn't tired, but Sam slept a whole lot better when he was around – as if he was capable of keeping the bad dreams away.

"Demon's don't get tired. Knights of hell don't get tired either." Sam may be injured and slow, but he wasn't stupid.

Dean knew that too. "But I do. Don't take that away from me, Sammy. - _Please_." He wrapped his arm around Sam's waist and tugged him a bit closer. "I _need_ this ... I _need_ you."

Sam leaned into him, letting the warmth of the other body soak into him and he closed his eyes. "I'm sorry. I ... I don't know ... it's just ... it all feels just wrong." Sam couldn't explain what he was feeling. The lack of emotions or the ones boiling deep inside him, buried under layers of denial.

"It's a lot to take in, baby boy. We'll deal with it all. One at a time, Sam," he whispered. "We have time ... The main thing's that you're here – alive – with me. That's what I'm thankful for."

Sam sniffed and suppressed a huff. But for how long? How long would Dean put up with him in this state? How was he supposed to put up with himself? Neither of them was made for a life like this. - After all, Dean wasn't even human. He was a traveler and not one to settle down.

And Bobby? Was he truly supposed to look after him when Dean was be gone? How was he supposed to move around on his own in a wheel-chair in this house? And then there was sex. Sure, he could get a boner. He even could FEEL Dean's touch, no matter that he didn't have control over his legs. But it wasn't just that, was it? Not when he couldn't move ... Couldn't come up with HIS PART in this.

Some day, Dean would SEE what he was going to miss if he'd stick around with Samuel Campbell. One day he'd lose his interest in the gimp he was now and would go away. Would leave him. And Sam wouldn't blame him, he couldn't. Because Dean was right – he was supposed to be happy and not bound to a damn freaking invalid.

Dean threw his leg over Sam's, making him a not so little spoon and buried his face in the incredibly shaggy mop of hazelnut colored hair.

"I'll take care of you, Sam," Dean whispered. "And now stop thinkin' so hard and get some more sleep."

That was something Sam didn't need to be told twice.

* * *

It was two hours later, when Dean awoke. Some time during their nap, he had pulled Sam even closer – or Sam had nestled closer to him. The hunter's face was buried in his chest, one hand lying loosely over Dean's waist.

He couldn't help but smile at that. Dean knew that Sam still loved him – he had to. Sometimes, when they had been laying in the hospital bed together, the hunter had sought the closeness to him and the warmth like a new-born puppy. Though it felt different now.

Not, that he didn't love the hunter anymore – if anything else, he loved him even more. But it was different. Sam was different.

Nonetheless, Dean needed to get up. He had to prepare something to eat and drink and had to check on his friends and the friends of his friends behind the house. He had promised to come out, as soon as Sam was settled upstairs ...

Dean sighed and his eyes fluttered open at muffled voices and the sounds of people working somewhere outside. As much as he wanted to stay with Sam right here and wait for him to wake up, he felt the urge to help those people building their new life.

He hadn't told Sam about the addition to Bobby's house on purpose, since he figured that the hunter would feel even worse about it. Hell, Dean felt bad about the fact that he wouldn't be able to help as much as he possibly could, since he wouldn't want anyone else to look out for Sam while everyone else was busy.

Besides, he figured that it wouldn't be good for Sam if he'd hire a nurse to take care of him instead of himself. That didn't feel right – not in the slightest.

So, Dean eased his arm out under Sam, who made a disapproving noise, but didn't wake. The demon grabbed his boots on his way out of the room and looked back once more towards the bed, where Sam was sound asleep, before he left the door wide open and headed downstairs.

He stumbled sleepily into the kitchen, where he found Ellen Harvelle at the coffee maker, preparing another pot full of hot black gold.

"Dean!" she called out with a happy laugh and wrapped her arms around the man as she turned around to see who approached her.

"Ellen." Dean returned the hug with a satisfied smile.

They parted seconds later.

"I'm sorry. - I fell asleep with Sam and-" he instantly began to try and justify why he hadn't shown up earlier, but Ellen stopped him with a disapproving noise.

"It's fine. We figured it wouldn't be that easy for you to join us, once Sam's settled." She winked at him and turned on the coffee maker. "So don't you worry. We're perfectly fine out there on our own." Ellen went to get two mugs from the cupboard above the stove. "Rufus comes with the digger tomorrow ..." she mentioned a bit less cheerily.

"Oh ..." Dean sniffed and took one of the mugs from Ellen's hand. "... guess I've to tell him then. - Isn't like he's deaf, huh?" His smile was tense.

Ellen sighed. "You probably should. - He'll ask questions anyway ..." She sniffed and took a deep inhale. "How's he doing anyway?"

Dean huffed out a pensive breath and shook his head. "Sam's doing okay I think." He looked up to meet the woman's gaze. "The docs in the hospital said he's got severe depression. Gave me something for him to take besides his painkillers ..." He pursed his lips. "Sam refused to take the pills in the hospital though, so I guess he won't want them now either."

"It's been only a month, Dean. Maybe he wants to try to figure it out by himself first, ya' know?" Ellen gave him a small smile. "He's a Campbell after all. And a pretty stubborn one by the way." She grinned now. "Just like his mom."

"What if he doesn't? If it gets worse?" He didn't know where the insecurity came from when it came to Samuel Campbell nowadays.

Her features turned serious. "Think about that when you're there."

Dean nodded to himself, as he watched Ellen pour him some coffee into the dark-brown mug. "You're probably right. I'm jinxing stuff."

Ellen chuckled. "We don't want you to do that. - And if there's anything you wanna talk about, boy ... you know ..." She rolled with her eyes meaningfully. "... you know where to find me or Bobby ... or Jim."

The knight grinned a bit now.

Ellen petted his shoulder. "That's my boy." She winked at him. "We're quitting for today anyway. - Ain't nothin' to do until we've the digger."

Dean slurped his coffee slowly, while talking with Ellen some more. The others – Bobby, Jim, Joshua and Sheriff Mills – were coming inside soon after to have some coffee themselves.

* * *

Sam slept far into the late evening and he might have slept through, if it have been for a weird tingling sensation in his lower stomach. Something that told him, that his bladder was full and that he NEEDED to visit the bathroom before he'd start to leak and mess up his clothes and the bed itself.

The ex-hunter groaned and rolled on his back, feeling his legs shift with the movement of his upper body. It wasn't as if he was unable to get to the toilet on his own –if it have been for the narrowed threshold leading to the bathroom and the lack of the wheel-chair he used to have beside his bed in the hospital.

Sure he had no use for it in Bobby's house ... at least not up here, where he couldn't move around with it anyway – at least not to go to the toilet on his own ... Another annoying and rather depressing fact he was now aware of.

Sam wiped over his face and closed his eyes for a brief moment.

"Dean?!" he croaked out hoarsely.

Sam could hear voices from downstairs ... obviously, Bobby had visitors. This was embarrassing – high likely there were people who knew him too ... Shit.

"Dean!" he called out louder. The last thing he wanted was to wet the damn bed.

Sam listened for footfalls on the stairs or the corridor. But nothing ... Okay, that wouldn't work – obviously. His lower lip started to quiver and his eyes were growing wet.

This couldn't be happening ... that damn bastard left him up here while chatting with someone else ... not thinking about the possibility that he could probably need some help?

_Well, screw him. Screw everything._

"DEAN!" he laid all his strength and urgency into his voice. One last time he'd try it ... "_Please_ ...", he muttered as he sucked in a shuddering breath.

He listened again ... and then – what seemed like minutes later - there were heavy footfalls and seconds later, Dean was rounding the corner in a jog.

He wore a soft smile on his lips, nearly a cheerily one.

"Too late," Sam muttered and turned his head to the side, looking away from the knight and towards the window. "You're too late."

The demon's face fell in an instant.

Instead of red from embarrassment, Sam's face was pale, nearly ashen and he felt nauseous, as the wet warmth beneath the covers spread slowly around him. He closed his eyes.

"You should've let me die. - You should've told them to turn off the damn machines and just leave me to die," he whispered, loud enough so that Dean was able to hear.

Dean approached the bed slowly, already knowing what might have happened. "It's not a big deal, babe. - I'm gonna clean it up," he tried to reassure Sam and tried to make it look as if it wasn't THAT BAD.

"Fuck you, Dean Winchester. - It IS a big deal. FOR ME for fuck's sake," Sam muttered, still not looking into his direction.

Dean took a deep breath and blew it out again. He turned towards the cupboard and got a fresh set of clothes, which he laid at the end of the bed. He then went outside and came back in with a recliner five minutes later, which he pulled up beside the bed.

"I know it's all makeshift and it's not perfect, Sammy.", Dean started with a deep sigh, "But I try, okay? Give me a chance here ... I want this to work ... I want US. 'kay?" it was soft spoken and tender. "It'll get better as soon as we're in our own four walls – I promise."

Upon that, Sam looked towards him, his eyes red-rimmed and his lips a bit puffy. "Neither of us has enough money to buy 'our own four walls'. Besides you don't even know me well enough to decide whether to stay with me or to simply leave when I'm not _enough_ anymore."

Dean huffed out a breath. "Well, I can't promise that you'll be enough until the end of time. Maybe I won't be ENOUGH for you in a couple of years. - But what I know is, that I WANT this to work and the thing with the four walls ... I've plans." He smiled a bit now. "We both need to learn how to deal with it, okay? - And we will. This way or another I'm gonna seduce you some time soon in our own house with blue curtains and a scrap-yard in front of the porch."

Sam sniffed and blew out a shuddering breath, mixed with a laugh. "I just pissed myself, Winchester. - Don't make it even more embarrassing."

"Well – not very sexy and SO NOT one of my kinks, but I guess I can deal with it." He winked at the younger man with a sly grin.

"You're unbelievable." Sam huffed out another laugh.

"That's why you love me.", Dean gave back.

Sam bitchfaced him right in the face.

"Screw you too, baby boy," the demon pursed his lips, as he pulled the comforter back.

When Dean hovered over him, to help him sit up, Sam slung one of his long arms around the older man's neck and pulled him down into a tentative kiss and just when Dean started to kiss back, Sam grew mightier.

It was the first attempt of the hunter to initiate something more intimate as simple touches and gestures. The first time, he took advantage of their physical closeness ever since he had woken up.

Somehow they'd deal with everything that might come along their way ... as long as they'd stick together. - At least that's what Dean Winchester thought, as he kissed the love of his life into oblivion.

_... to be continued_

* * *

_you guys ready for the Epilogue aka the last chapter?_

**what my lovely beta gothpandaotaku answered:** NO I'M NOT. NO NO NO. HMPH.


	25. Chapter 25 Together We Stand

_FIRST OFF: THANK YOU TO MY AWESOMELY AMAZING BETA _**GOTHPANDAOTAKU**_!_

_I gotta admit I've a thing for cozy soft blankets, okay? It may even be a kink._

_I WANTED TO THANK EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU FOR REVIEWING, FOLKS! :) I THINK I MAY FORGET SOMETIMES TO RESPOND TO SOME OF YOUR REVIEWS, AND I WANT YOU ALL TO KNOW HOW THANKFUL I AM FOR THEM, EVEN WHEN I AM NOT RESPONDING ... (because I'm plain chaotic and sometimes I've no clue if I've reviewed to a review or not) ..._

* * *

**Obsidian ~ Raise A Little Hell**

_**The Road So Far:**_

_Sam sniffed and blew out a shuddering breath, mixed with a laugh. "I just pissed myself, Winchester. - Don't make it even more embarrassing."_

_"Well – not very sexy and SO NOT one of my kinks, but I guess I can deal with it." He winked at the younger man with a sly grin._

_"You're unbelievable." Sam huffed out another laugh._

_"That's why you love me.", Dean gave back._

_Sam bitchfaced him right in the face._

_"Screw you too, baby boy," the demon pursed his lips, as he pulled the comforter back._

_When Dean hovered over him, to help him sit up, Sam slung one of his long arms around the older man's neck and pulled him down into a tentative kiss and just when Dean started to kiss back, Sam grew mightier._

_It was the first attempt of the hunter to initiate something more intimate as simple touches and gestures. The first time, he took advantage of their physical closeness ever since he had woken up._

_Somehow they'd deal with everything that might come along their way ... as long as they'd stick together. - At least that's what Dean Winchester thought, as he kissed the love of his life into oblivion._

* * *

**Chapter 25 ~ Together We Stand**

Sam hadn't left the bed, unless he needed to visit the bathroom, since that day – not after the incident, which left him more introverted than before.

Sure, Sam had kissed him – taking the lead in their relationship for the first time since he had woken up – but that obviously didn't seem to mean anything.

After Dean had helped Sam get cleaned up and dressed in fresh clothes, lowered Sam into the recliner, so that he could change the sheets and turn the mattress around, he had brought him into the bathroom and then back into bed. Then he had hurried up to get a sandwich done for the hunter and brought it to him with a big glass of apple-juice.

Sam managed to empty half of the juice, but stopped eating after half the sandwich anyways - A fact that bothered the demon more than he led on.

Actually, their whole situation bothered him like hell. Sam was sleeping a lot and his eating habits were worse than just bad. Hell, the man even watched how much he was drinking, so that he didn't have to visit the toilet every other hour or so.

After the tiny dinner, Sam had gone off into dreamland again and slept through the entire night. Dean hadn't dared to leave him on his own upstairs again, afraid, that he'd miss Sam's call if he'd need something.

Other than that, he stayed with Sam, though he didn't sleep. Instead he was listening to him breath and feeling the rise and fall of his ribcage while his hands rested on the younger man's chest. Sam's sleep wasn't as calm as it should be. Every now and then he would stir and whimper or make one of those other tiny desperate sounds, which broke Dean's heart.

So he stroked and caressed him whenever he would start to get uneasy, or irritated in his sleep and would whisper gentle words into the younger man's ear.

* * *

The next morning was rather early, since Sam needed the toilet around six in the morning for the first time, and he wouldn't fall asleep again after. Not that Dean bothered in any way.

So, Dean ran a bath for the younger man and helped him to get undressed on the bed.

Sam seemed to be even more shy than he had been before. He pulled the blanket over his torso as soon as his shirt was gone and Dean started to work on his sweats and boxers. As much as the knight tried to avoid to STARE at the scars which plastered the hunter's form, he couldn't bring himself to not to do just that.

Dean pulled the sweatpants from Sam's legs and the boxers and looked up, as he sat at the end of the bed, catching the hunter's gaze over the distance. He laid his hand on Sam's calf and blinked at him with a sweet smile.

"You don't have to hide, Sammy," he said calmly. "You know that, right?" He needed to be sure, that Sam knew - That for HIM nothing had changed between them.

Sam nibbled on his lower lip and nodded.

"Good." Dean's smile brightened. Though he knew that Sam was lying. "C'mon. Let's get your scrawny ass in the bathtub before the water turns cold."

Sam obliged. He let himself be carried into the bathtub and eased into the steaming water. He let Dean the sponge, since he insisted on washing him.

After a while, Sam's eyes fluttered shut and the tension in his muscles faded and he relaxed more and more into the warmth surrounding him. After another while, the hunter looked content and calm, as if he was asleep again.

When the water started to turn cold, Dean lifted him out of the tub (which wasn't that easy at all, not even for a super-powerful jedi-demon) and sat him on the toilet. Instantly, Sam started to shiver and his teeth started to chatter.

Dean hurried up to dry Sam off and get him into pants, a warm pair of sweats, thick socks, a tee-shirt, a flannel and a cardigan which once had to be one of Bobby's. When they were all done, Dean carried Sam downstairs. The hunter nuzzled into his neck and rested his head in the crook of Dean's neck, enjoying the warmth radiating from the other man.

When they were down, he eased Sam into the wheelchair that stood right at the foot of the stairs, waiting for its owner.

"You gonna be okay on ya own for a couple of minutes?" Dean asked hesitantly as he pulled back and laid his hand on Sam's cheek.

He nodded. "Sure." Sam blinked up at Dean and gave him a weak smile.

The knight placed a gentle kiss to Sam's forehead, before he turned back towards the stairs.

While Dean busied himself upstairs, to get the bath cleaned up and the laundry from last night and this morning into the washing machine, Sam wheeled himself into the kitchen, where he stood for quite some time and eyed the stove and the cupboards.

He huffed out a frustrated breath.

Bobby would be up soon too ...

Sam could at least try to be useful – somehow. So he maneuvered the chair towards the fridge, where he'd find eggs and bacon and maybe a bit milk.

Everything he'd needed to brew coffee was in the upper cupboards, which he couldn't reach - Which pissed him off actually. He knew how important coffee was for the grizzled hunter and the demon. They weren't fractionating without – neither was he.

With a sigh, he put the pack of bacon in his lap and placed the tray with eggs on it. Sam scooted back with the chair and knocked the door of the fridge closed, before he went back towards the stove, where he put the bacon and the eggs.

He was so sunken into what he was doing, that he didn't notice Dean standing in the doorway and smiling at him. Maybe it wouldn't be that easy for Sam anyway, but maybe it wouldn't be as hard either. At least when they'd have their own apartment ...

Dean gave him some more time, before he gave Sam a helping hand with the utensils which were out of reach and continued to make the breakfast together.

Bobby was rather surprised when he saw the both of them up and about and preparing their breakfast. He watched them for quite some time as he stood in the hallway, before he entered and greeted them with a gruff "Mornin' Boys."

Dean turned around and gave him a nod, while Sam just said a good morning back and continued to stir in the pan with eggs.

That was, when Sam flinched slightly, and let go of the spatula to lay his hand at his side and closed his eyes. He took a careful inhale and a long slow exhale followed.

"Sammy?" Dean was instantly concerned.

"It's okay," he said breathlessly, "I'm okay."  
Dean pulled both pans from the stove and turned the wheelchair around, so that Sam was facing him as he squat down.

Bobby, who had been about to take a seat, was beside the men in an instant, one hand on Sam's shoulder.

"Liar," Dean ground out, pissed. "It's hurting, isn't it? - You've gotta tell me when it's hurting, you know that." He laid his hand on Sam's cheek and one over the hand holding Sam's side.

"You know it's not real pain," Sam shot back quietly, his voice vibrating. "It's just ..."

"I know what the doc said and he also told us that it's not for sure. He just said he can't find anything but adhesions – Which doesn't mean that they can't hurt." Dean was firm, though he kept his voice soft. "Sammy ... they put you through surgery for the better part of seven hours ... it's-"

"I know," Sam said and he opened his eyes lazily. He understood the demon's worry. He really did. But he also had some pride left. What meant, that he wouldn't give into a bit of ghost-pain. Not by a long shot. He had never been oversensitive to pain and sure as hell wouldn't start now.

Dean brushed long strands of chestnut-brown silky hair behind Sam's ear and sighed deeply, closing his eyes in the process.

"Breakfast and painkillers for you," he said and rose.

"But-" Sam spoke up to protest.

"No buts. - It's not healthy. Pain increases your heartrate and blood pressure." Dean said matter-of-factly, as he opened the cupboard and got three plates out. "You need something against the pain, you'll get it. So don't be stubborn like that."

Sam nodded. He knew there was no way he'd get around it. Dean would pry his mouth open and make him swallow the bitter pill no matter how hard he'd protest.

"Fine."

Bobby laid his hands at the wheelchair. "I'm gonna get you to the table, boy." And before Sam was able to respond, Bobby was already shoving him.

Sam just picked at the eggs and nibbled at the toast until Dean made him eat at least half of his serving with simple glares and dares that he'd take him to the hospital to get that gastric tube back into him.

Something that Sam would rather die than let happen again. So he ate.

* * *

Rufus called and told Bobby that he'd come around with the digger around noon, since there were some complications with the so-called "borrowing". So Dean decided to head into town to get some supplies – mainly things he had noted in his mind he needed for Sam. Like a real warm cozy blanket, another pair of sweatpants and a vest, shoes and those high-energy shakes the hospital had suggested.

Right after their breakfast and after making sure that Sam had taken his pills and that he really had swallowed them, Dean said his goodbye with a lingering kiss to Sam's lips and then he was gone.

* * *

It was short before noon, when the familiar rumble of the Impala's engine was heard in front of the house again. Sam wheeled himself from the livingroom into the hall, where he stopped and waited anxiously for the door to open.

Bobby's visitors – Sam didn't really know why they were even there – had stopped chatting all together as soon as Sam had wheeled away from them towards the front-door.

There was a loud thud from the outside and then the handle of the door went down and it flew open.

"Man, I hate shopping," Dean growled, pissed, but found his lost composure the same moment again when he spotted Sam in the middle of the hall. Within seconds there was a smile on the demon's face and he made short eye contact with his lover, before he turned back around to get the first couple of giant bags inside.

"What the hell's in there?" Sam asked curiously with risen eyebrows, as he watched Dean struggle with getting the door closed.

"Well!" Dean called out and lurked around the corner into the living-room. "Surely there could've been _one _of you to help me, right guys?"

He dumped the bags beside the closed door and bowed down to steal a kiss from Sam as he gripped his hand and squeezed it gently. "I'll show you later, okay?" he whispered against the younger man's mouth and stole another kiss.

"You guys know it's not very polite to STARE, right?" Dean glanced into the living-room.

Everyone looked somewhere else immediately.

Sam blushed and chuckled silently.

There was a beat of silence, before a low rumble and roaring from the outside was heard.

Sam blinked and looked up, irritated. Dean tensed visibly and his easy mood seemed to fade a bit.

"Rufus's here," Bobby said.

Sam looked towards the small group of people. "Rufus?" he asked.

It wasn't common for Bobby to have THAT MUCH activity in his house. After all the old man had always said he loved the silence and peace around here ...

Dean cleared his throat and smiled nervously at Sam, before he vanished behind him and gripped the wheel-chair tightly.

"Gotta show you something," Dean whispered into his ear.

"I'll show him around," Bobby rose from the recliner and all the others with him, leaving through the front entrance, while Dean started to shove the chair towards the back entrance, which led directly to the backyard of the salvage.

"Where are you bringing me?" Sam sounded rather confused and a bit shaky. "What's up, Dean?"

The demon's smile widened and he stopped shortly to bow down and kiss the hunter's head. "Wait and see, baby," he said before he started to direct the chair further down the corridor.

Finally getting behind the house and outside, Sam's expression blanked immediately as he saw the cleaned up area and the lack of cars and wild weed. Instead of wrecks, there was nothing but dirt and a sized area.

"Dean?" Sam asked.

The digger came into view from their right and Rufus waved at them in his goofy kind of way. Behind the digger, Bobby, Ellen, Caleb, Jim and Joshua appeared with shovels in their hands.

Sam's hands started to tremble and he reached up to grab a piece of fabric from Dean's clothes. There were tears starting to burn in his eyes and he swallowed down a sob. Of course he knew what this all meant.

They were about to get their own four walls right behind Bobby's. There were people, Sam barely knew, who were obviously going to help them build something of their own. And then there was Bobby, who obviously didn't care that he was sacrificing quite some space of his own property to the both of them ...

Well, high likely it was because of Dean. Because DEAN was the one who knew them ... if it wasn't for him he'd be somewhere else, rotting.

Tears welled up in his eyes once again and this time he couldn't help the sobs which were escaping his mouth. He saw through misty eyes how those people looked at him – their faces faltering rapidly.

And Sam wasn't sure if he should laugh ... or cry. Because he wasn't the one they were doing this for. They were doing this for DEAN. THEIR friend with the liability at his side ...

"Sam." Dean sounded utterly concerned, as he laid his hand on Sam's shoulder and squeezed it gently.

"I'm sorry ... 'm sorry, Dean." Sam hiccupped and his body trembled under the immense weight suddenly resting on his shoulders.

Dean threw a help-searching gaze towards his friends, before he went down in front of Sam and cupped his face tightly in between his hands and forced him to look him in the eyes. He wiped the streaming tears away from Sam's cheeks, who cast his look down as good as he could.

"Sammy ..." Dean was there – right in front of him. "... c'mon, kiddo. It's okay. It's something beautiful, isn't it?"

Sam nodded furiously. The only thing he really wanted was to go inside – away from them, from this place. If he had been able to walk he'd run ... but he couldn't. Sam couldn't go anywhere on his own. He couldn't DO anything on his own ...

"Thanks," Sam stuttered in between sobs. "Thanks." He threw his arms up and around Dean's neck and held onto him tightly. "Thank you," he whispered as he buried his face into the older man's shoulder.

Taken aback, Dean wrapped his arms gently around his lover and squeezed him carefully.

"You okay?" Dean asked silently.

Sam nodded into his shoulder and blew out a half-sob and half chuckle. "I think I need to go pee."

* * *

After that, Dean brought Sam upstairs and settled him into the bed and wrapped him into one of the two new cozy blankets in plain dark-brown.

When Sam's weeping had subsided and he had dozed off, Dean headed back downstairs and got two walkie talkies from one of the bags he had dumped beside the front door earlier. He checked the batteries, before he placed one of them on the empty half of the bed, right beside Sam and stored the other one in the back-pocket of his jeans.

He checked the walkies a last time before he headed downstairs and back around the house, where Rufus was already starting to move some serious amount of earth.

"Sam's okay?" Bobby asked, serious concern swinging in his voice.

Dean blew out a huff and nodded – more to himself than Bobby. "He's gonna be... Sam's... he's different, you know?" He glanced at the other man worriedly, trying to figure out what he'd think about it. "He's so ... COMPLETELY different from ... from-"

"From how he'd been before?" Bobby gave him a sad smile. He sighed deeply. "It's gonna take time, boy- Trust me. And if ... if he's not getting over it on his own, we'll look for someone who can help him – someone professional."

Dean nodded again, as he pulled his gloves over.

"What'd you think you're doing?" Bobby nudged Dean's shoulder – not so carefully.

"Working?" Dean shot back with risen eyebrows.

"Nah. You go back in there and stay with Sam for fuck's sake, kid." He said gruffly. "I don't want to see you out here working for the rest of the week. And when Sam's halfway better later on, you can join us eventually."

"What? You can't be serious, Bobby. I won't let you guys work out here while I'm-" Dean started, but got stopped by Bobby's risen hand. "No boy - You listen carefully: That was my idea. I do appreciate your support, but I sure don't want it, if it mean's that you've gotta have a buttload of stress because you THINK you need to be out here with us, while your mind's actually in the house with Sam." Bobby sounded dead-drop serious about it.

And Dean couldn't do anything but obey the older man's orders.

* * *

_One Month Later ..._

Things hadn't gotten a lot better with Sam. If anything, the young hunter was pulling back into himself even more ... Sam was barely talking these days. Hell, he wasn't doing a lot besides sleeping. Even his eating-habits got worse, and Dean didn't know what to do since Sam wouldn't talk to him about what was actually bothering him that bad.

Though, Dean had a feeling about what could probably cause Sam's behaviour. An assumption. It was sex. Nope, Dean wasn't kidding. After thinking it over and over again ... sure there were some other things too that high likely caused Sam's bad mood.

But there certainly was this one topic over everything else. Sometimes Sam would look at him like he wanted to talk... or something, but then he would just look away ... not to mention the multiple times Sam had a visible erection hidden beyond a blanket or his hands whenever they got closer in bed, or in the bathtub.

Dean knew that Sam could pretty well get aroused and things like that ... it might not work in the same way it had before, but he still could. And somehow, he seemed too embarrassed to let Dean anywhere close to his lower department ... or even touch him in any other way than necessary.

THAT had to change ...

It wasn't that Dean NEEDED it that desperately. Hell, he wouldn't force himself on the hunter – no way. Though, Sam had some serious issues right now which had to be taken care off.

Maybe it'd work – maybe it wouldn't.

Maybe his plan would go south and he'd curse at himself for even trying ... but he HAD to do something before Sam was giving himself up for good since he was already halfway there.

Either Sam would talk soon, or he had to make his own assumptions about why Samuel Campbell didn't want him that way anymore ...

* * *

Sam was currently sitting on the couch, a blanket laid over his lap, the wheelchair right beside him so he'd be able to climb into it on his own when he wanted to ... he didn't want to anyway.

This was all so messed up. He was messed up. Sam didn't know what to do or how to act. Bobby's and Dean's friends were already working outside to build their home as he sat here on the couch. Trying to watch TV while he sorted his mind. At least the tried to sort his mind.

Dean was just ... he was awesome. In every kind of way actually. The man tried to give him time and was achingly patient with him, no matter in which way. He could consider himself lucky to have him – he really could. Dean was doing everything for him ... and Sam was doing nothing to show his thanks to him.

He felt guilty. And useless. Oh god, why the hell couldn't he just die? Why couldn't he die and the world right itself? Everyone would be able to go their own way– without a liability like him ...

Another thing that bothered him endlessly was, that he wanted to be close to Dean. Not just close, like sitting together, side by side. He wanted to be intimate with him – like before everything had happened. But he couldn't get himself to let it happen.

Dean had made some attempts to get below his waistband, but Sam had said that he didn't feel well, or that he had a headache. Because he just couldn't let it happen. He couldn't let Dean do all the damn work while he'd lay there – no matter how bad he wanted it.

So here he was, sitting on the couch and thinking, trying to reassure himself, that all of his negative thoughts weren't true. That Dean loved him, no matter how bad he may look, or how unmovable he was. He tried to reassure himself, that he was useful in some kind of way. He could do research and stuff, he could be something similar to Bobby. An encyclopedia of knowledge to other hunters – after all he had hunted monsters ever since he had been a kid.

Maybe, somehow that'd work ...

* * *

Dean was standing in the doorway and watching him drifting in and out of sleep ... he stood there for a long while actually ... just watching as the wheels in Sam's head were rattling.

"Sammy?" Dean asked finally.

The hunter blinked and his absent look changed as he drifted into the here and now. He looked over at Dean, who was pushing himself away from the door frame and walking over to him.

"Yeah?" Sam looked up at him with big eyes.

"We need to talk." It wasn't a question, nor was it an order. It was a matter of fact.

Sam nodded to himself. He knew this point would come some time soon, since he had been sensing that Dean was about to snap if they wouldn't work things out.

"I know," he muttered.

Dean lifted the blanket up and sneaked under it, getting settled beside him. He laid his arm around Sam's shoulders and pulled him a bit closer.

Sam let himself be pulled against the man's shoulder and blew out a sigh.

"We can't go on like this. YOU and me we can't go on like this - You're killing yourself here. You're killing me." The demon's eyes flashed black for the matter of a moment. "I've the feeling I'm loosing you all over again ... And I can't do that. I can't lose you ... I can't watch you waste away beside me ..." His voice was soft and filled with concern and honesty.

There was a beat of silence.

Sam let the words sink in.

"I don't want to be saved, Dean - Why can't you just let me go?" Sam's voice was barely a whisper.

"Because I love you too bad to let that happen." Dean placed a gentle kiss on the hunter's head and sucked in a deep breath of girly shampoo.

"I can't give you what you want," Sam continued silently.

"Who says that I want you to give me something?" he asked.

"Because you're trying. - And I just can't." Sam sighed desperately. "I can't ..."

"You don't have to," he gave back seriously.

"Dean ..." Sam snuggled into his side to get more comfortable. "... It's not like I wouldn't want to ... I promise it's not."

Dean thought about that for a moment. "So ... you want to, but you can't? That's all?" Relief washed over him in the moment and the tight knot in his chest dissolved slowly into nothingness.

"That's all? Dean. That's A LOT." The ex hunter huffed out a bitter laugh and shook his head. He would even have pulled back a bit if he could have, but Dean wouldn't let him.

Dean thought again. "Is it ... physically ... or ..." He couldn't say it out loud. After all this was weird to talk about.

This time, Sam pulled back and Dean let him. "No. It's not physically. I can get it up – you already noticed that I can, didn't you?"

The demon chuckled awkwardly. "Yeah ... well. Yes."

"I don't know why I can't ... It's ... it's like ... first I want to and then ... somehow ... then I CAN'T. I just don't know HOW and ..." Sam couldn't describe the feeling – not with words.

"Panic," Dean muttered to himself and shook his head before he locked his gaze again with the younger man.

Sam cast his look down and nodded. "I don't know why ..."

"And what if I'd nudge you into the right direction? What if I'd try to go on? You'd enjoy it?" Dean asked tentatively.

"I don't know." It was quiet and awkward and all things crazy. Maybe if he'd nudge him past the boundary which hindered him, maybe then it'd work. Sam's eyes flickered up to catch a glimpse of obsidian in the demon's eyes. - Something that happened pretty often lately. "I honestly don't know, Dean ..."

Dean tugged him back against his side and nuzzled with his nose into Sam's hair, kissing it gently. "I'll think of something, okay? ... IF you eat your dinner later ..." He smirked a bit now.

Sam chuckled. "You can't blackmail me with sex and food – I'm not you." He scooted a bit closer and laid his head back against Dean's shoulder.

Both sat there in silence, watching Buffy stabbing one of those ugly bitches right in the heart.

* * *

Dean thrusted Bobby a roll of bills in the hand and told him to go to Doughy's for dinner, and into a bar later on. He also told him that they should take their time and not hurry things up.

When Bobby wanted to know if Sam and he wouldn't come, he instantly understood by just looking Dean in the eyes and he just nodded, a confused expression on his face. "Just ... don't hurt him, okay?"

The demon looked at him rather surprised. "Bobby ... you know I wouldn't."

The grizzled hunter huffed out a breath. "I know – but you know what I mean, okay? Whatever it is you're planning for tonight ... don't break any furniture, will ya'?" He winked at him with a half-smile.

Dean winked back at him. "Have fun in town."

Bobby huffed out a breath. Sure he'd have fun and to crown it all he'd spend most of the night in a bar at the bar, all on his own until they'd lock it down ...

"Don't expect me to be gone the whole night, boy, you understand?" Bobby said, as he was heading back outside through the backdoor to call it a day for everyone.

Bobby muttered something under his breath before he closed the door behind him.

With a satisfied smirk, Dean turned back around towards the kitchen, where spaghetti and sugo were cooking.

"Sammy ..." Dean muttered with a sigh, as he pulled the pot with the sugo from the stove and checked on the noodles. He then glanced at the walkie, which was laying on the kitchen counter and he frowned slightly at the lack of activity. Usually Sam wouldn't be asleep for that long ... at least not all the damn time. "Time you get your scrawny ass up, babe."

And as if on command, the walkie's loudspeaker cracked ...

* * *

Dean let nothing on. At least he tried to, though Sam seemed to be curious. At least he seemed curious ever since he noticed that Bobby wasn't around, nor anyone else. He also seemed to notice the lack of noise from the outside.

"Where are the others?" Sam asked finally, wrapping the blanket tighter around his shoulders.

"I sent them into town – Doughy's," Dean answered casually. "Wanted to spend some quality time with you. Alone." He currently stood with the back to Sam, preparing two plates with spaghetti and sugo. When he turned back around, he held the plates in his hands and wore a genuine smile on his face.

Sam watched his partner curiously. "Alone?" it sounded nearly hesitant.

"Yep," Dean answered as if it was nothing special. "Just you and me."

Sam sucked in his lower lip and bit down on it, eying the serving of food before him for a long moment, before he looked over at Dean's. He had made a smaller one for the ex hunter – which he was actually grateful for.

"Because of what we were talking earlier?" Sam continued asking, while Dean took his seat at the table.

"Not just because of that, Sam," Dean looked up and shoved a spoon and a fork towards the younger man. "But yeah – mainly because I figured you could seduce me, Bitch ..." He wiggled with his eyebrows in that funny kind of way.

Sam chuckled, as he twisted the noodles around his fork. "Sure, Jerk. - Figured you want me naked all over the kitchen-table," he shot back and took the bite in his mouth.

Dean looked up at him surprised. These days Sam wouldn't hop on the train of dirty talk that easy. "Figured the counter's more comfortable ... better height and such," he answered as if they were discussing what color their curtains would have.

Sam leaned back with a sigh, all of a sudden looking stricken. "Bobby'd kill us," he muttered, as he eyed the contents of the plate.

Dean decided for once not to argue about the fact that Sam was going to say that he's done after just a fork full. To his surprise, the younger man forked up some more noodles.

"Tastes good, Dean," Sam muttered between his fourth and fifth fork of Spaghetti Bolognese.

Dean gave him a soft smile and a nod. "I'm awesome."

"You're awesome."

Sure Sam didn't eat the whole plate, but he visibly tried to, without saying once that he couldn't go on ...

And Dean wouldn't force him. - Not after he had eaten more than usual.

When they were both done, Dean cleaned up the dishes, while Sam was drying them off, sharing loving glances every now and then.

"Bed?" Dean asked then.

Sam blushed. He knew why Dean had sent Bobby into town with the others. If he wouldn't, they'd be here right now and would stay until some time around midnight chatting and laughing ...

The younger man nodded shyly and looked aside for a moment. "What if it won't-"

Dean silenced him with a peck to his lips. "It's gonna be okay, baby. Don't you worry," he said reassuringly and soft.

* * *

Dean eased the hunter onto the bed, covers already thrown back over the back of the bed. Just the spare light on the nightstand illuminated the room tenderly and flooding it with a pale orange-yellow light.

They kept their eyes on each other, while Dean helped him to get in the middle of the bed, hovering over him all the time. Close, but not too close.

The knight sealed his lips over Sam's, lowering himself onto him, until their hips met, though still parted due rough denim and soft sweatpants. Sam's instincts told him to arch into the pressure above him, but his limbs wouldn't obey – they never did.

A helpless, frustrated moan fell from the younger man's lips.

"Tell me what you want, baby boy.", Dean whispered against his lips. "Whatever you want."

Sam searched the older man's eyes. "You, Dean. I want you ..." Before he could continue, Dean sealed his lips back over his and parted them with his tongue.

Dean kissed and licked along the younger man's jaw, towards his left ear, nipping on the lope gently. His breath ghosted over Sam's neck, making him shiver.

"If you ... really want me to ... stop, Sammy ..." Dean said between kisses, "... say apple-pie."

A low chuckle aroused from Sam's throat. "Apple-pie?" he said breathlessly, ".. really? You're gonna tie me down? Cuff me to the bed?"

The knight bit down right below Sam's earlobe and sucked the tender skin into his mouth, giving him a hickey.

"Not tonight. Though I'll keep going, Sam. - No matter what. Until you tell me stop. Until you say the word." Dean whispered, pressing his hips gainst Sam's. "Without asking questions afterwards. No justifying why."

The younger man made a little noise of aproval, feeling his manhood grow under the constant friction. "'kay. Apple pie it is," he breathed, followed by a deep moan, when Dean ground down against him.

So far it was nothing they hadn't done before in those two months ...

"You trust me?" Dean whispered in his ear.

Sam shuddered, when the knight's fingers ghosted over his cheek and jaw. "Yeah."

Dean shifted his legs to Sam's sides and sat up on over his stomach. His fingers soon found their way towards Sam's button-down shirt, slowly starting to unbutton it, revealing more and more of the pale skin below.

Sam got up on his elbows and let Dean brush the fabric off of him. Rather urgent, he removed his own shirt, before he went back to caress Sam's chest and nipples with his fingers and mouth.

"Beautiful," Dean whispered against warm skin. "And sweet ..."

Sam arched into the ministrations, his hands finding the other man's bare, muscular chest. "Dean," he breathed, closing his eyes to will the rising panic inside of him to subside.

He didn't stop, ignoring the soft plea. Instead he started to remove Sam's sweatpants and boxers in one go, kissing his way down and back up again when he done. "You feel good," he said breathlessly, "So good, Sunshine. I've missed this ..."

Sam sucked in his lower lip, feeling short, spiked hair under his palms. Dean sealed his lips over Sam's one more time, before he struggled out of his jeans and boxers not so gracefully.

Every time Dean would praise him, would tell him how handsome he was, Sam felt himself on the verge to say their safeword, no matter how bad he wanted Dean to keep going.

Sam's eyes fluttered open, when he felt Dean shift and lay down beside him, searching instantly for him with his eyes.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean whispered, while he fumbled for something in the drawer of the nightstand.

When Dean found what he was looking for, he turned back around, searching Sam's face intently. "You remember it, don't you?" he asked then.

Sam nodded. Sure he remembered the safeword. - Miraculously he seemed safer WITH it, as if it was giving him security to truly stop this, without either one of them questioning it later on.

Dean put the small bottle beside him and turned towards Sam. He nudged him a bit, to show him that he should turn over, looking into the other direction. Sam did as best as he could and the knight helped him with his legs, never missing an opportunity to kiss Sam's soft skin while he worked on getting him into the right position.

When he was done, Dean inched closer, until his skin was flush against Sam's back and he felt the younger man lean back into him, one hand searching contact. Dean reached for it, while his other one eased under Sam's neck, kissing and licking along the curve of his neck and shoulder.

The younger man made a surprised noise, as he felt Dean's hard length sneak in between in globes. He tried to move against it, but his legs wouldn't obey, and he stayed in the same position as he was in.

"It's okay," Dean whispered and the bottle of lube was heard being uncapped. "I got you. I'll make this good."

Sam felt cool slick digits slide along his cleft and his breath hitched at the very moment they passed his puckered entrance. - Again the need to arch into the touch kept being unheard by his body.

"I trust you," Sam muttered breathy, "Trust you with my life."

Dean smiled into Sam's shoulder, tracing back up with his slick fingers towards his hole. He could feel fluttering muscles, when he started to circle and tease his way around it and ever so gently nudged inside without really penetrating.

Just when felt Sam relax more and more, he dared to enter him carefully.

Dean took his time to get Sam ready. He needed it. Dean needed it. He needed to know that Samuel would enjoy what they were doing – that he was ready and that he wouldn't hurt him.

What seemed like an eternity later, Sam was a writhing mess, making all those tiny desperate, silent noises, until Dean couldn't take it anymore.

"You're mine," the knight groaned, as he slicked his rock-hard arousal up. "Mine, Sam. - I won't let you go ever."

Sam's breath hitched at those words and gasped, when he felt Dean's manhood nudge at his hole. "Dean ... Dean ..." Sam threw his head back, so that it rested against the knight's shoulder.

He ever so slowly eased into the tight, warm tunnel until the head of his erection was inside. It took a whole lot of self-control to stay like that.

Then he reached around Sam's waist and his hand slowly made its way up over his stomach, ribcage and towards his neck. Ever so gently, his hand curled around Sam's neck. Not in an attempt to choke him, or claim him. It was more about the fact, that this was Sam's most fragile body-part and that Sam exposed it to him. Showed him how much he trusted him.

When nothing but an aroused gasp fell from the ex hunter's lips, and Dean felt a large hand curl around his wrist – not to pull his hand away, but to hold him in place, he slowly started to inch his way into Sam with little pushes.

"Sammy," he moaned, feeling the beat of Sam's artery against his ring-finger.

The noise, which came from Sam's lips then, was pretty much something desperate and longing.

"So good, baby boy. So good." Dean praised panting, as he was fully seated inside of him, surrounded by tightness and heat.

They made love.

Slow and unbelievably gentle.

Something Dean Winchester hadn't done before – not like this – not ever. Because it had never been love before. Not in the slightest. And This? THIS was special. Because it was with Sam. He didn't need anything – anyone – besides this man ever again in his entire man. No matter how broken, or damaged he might was. Physically or emotionally.

This. Here. Was where he wanted to stay. Forever.

_- The End -_

* * *

_THIS CHAPTER WILL BE BETA'D LATER ON._

_;) Heya, guys. There might be a sequel. I know I write that at the end of all my stories, because there MIGHT be a sequel after all._

_THOUGH: there was this prompt from _**sammygothispantieson**_: hurt!crazy!bottom!hermaphrodite!sam, protective!possessive!hunter!dean, mpreg, crossdressing, salvage!fic, heat!circles, alpha!beta!omaga!dynamics - just saying: THAT'S ONE HELL OF A PROMPT, girl and I can't promise anything about it. But I'm trying, okay?_

_So ... if you got anything you wanna read in the new story ... you can PM me, okay?_

_So, I'm off to work on this one ;)_


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